


101 Uses For Dragon Eggs

by colazitron



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Dragons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis just got back from a three week assignment yesterday and today was only supposed to be paperwork he needs to do to finish that up, before he was going to leave early and enjoy the weekend. And then Zayn, the traitor, emailed him about a bloke who was rumoured to have found a dragon egg and apparently live tweeting the whole thing.</p><p>Now. There are a lot of kids on twitter who tweet about dragon eggs they’ve found. <i>A lot</i>. But ninety-nine point nine percent of those tweets are about eggs that are not dragon eggs, whether the kids tweeting know that or not.</p><p>The only reason that Louis allows for that point-one percent chance that someone could be tweeting about an actual dragon egg is that, well, someone <i>could</i>. Weird things happen all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	101 Uses For Dragon Eggs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lookatyourchoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookatyourchoices/gifts).



> Well, this is a pinch hit, as you've probably figured out by now. I'm sorry that this has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas and I hope it's a bit like what you wanted!

@Harreesi: I shall henceforth be known as Harreesi, father of dragons.

It starts out bad. And it gets worse.

Louis has got his elbow on his desk, forehead heavily leaning onto his palm, while he scrolls through this kid's twitter feed. He'll have a crick in his neck from the awkward position any moment now, but there's no other way he can deal with this on this particular Friday. He just got back from a three week assignment yesterday and today was only supposed to be paperwork he needs to do to finish that up, before he was going to leave early and enjoy the weekend. And then Zayn, the traitor, emailed him about a bloke who was rumoured to have found a dragon egg and apparently live tweeting the whole thing. Zayn knows very well that Louis has been looking forward to takeaway food and superhero movies.

Now. There are a lot of kids on twitter who tweet about dragon eggs they’ve found. _A lot_. It’s a bit of an urban legend; finding a dragon egg, breeding it and having one’s very own dragon. But ninety-nine point nine percent of those tweets are about eggs that are not dragon eggs, whether the kids tweeting know that or not. The number of times Louis has followed up on these anonymous tips about kids having found dragon eggs only to be met with bleeding paper maché is... significant.

The only reason anyone still bothers to follow up on those tips is that sometimes while the egg in question isn’t a dragon egg, it’s a basilisk one and could’ve potentially killed everyone once it hatched.

And the only reason that Louis allows for that point-one percent chance that someone could be tweeting about an actual dragon egg is that, well, someone _could_. Weird things happen all the time. One of those could theoretically be someone finding an unattended dragon’s egg. Even if dragons are among the most fiercely protective creatures roaming the planet and it’s very hard to imagine that one of them would voluntarily give up or even lose an egg.

This kid - _Harreesi_ , what a knob - has at the very least an egg that appears not to be made out of paper maché for the attention or amusement of his twitter and instagram followers, which at least means that Louis didn’t spend the last hour looking for this kid’s profile in vain. It also means that he can kiss his quiet weekend goodbye, most probably.

At first glance at the multiple instagram posts of the egg - mottled purple and green with what seem to be occasional flecks of gold - Louis can’t identify it as any of the common or even uncommon dragon eggs he knows. With an annoyed groan he pulls up the Agency’s database to look for any rare dragons that might lay such an egg.

There are only two known species to lay purple-green eggs. The Fiji Fang’s eggs are iridescent, a bit like the surface of a purple-green soap or oil bubble, and the Ukrainian Spitfire’s are a solid green with only the occasional purple-ish spot. Neither of them look like someone used a brush to flick vibrantly green and purple paint all over an egg only to highlight it with some strands of gold. Which means Louis is going to have to go through all the purple eggs _and_ all the green eggs, just in case it shows up. And if it doesn’t, he’ll have to figure out if there’s another species entirely that lays these eggs.

Actually, he’ll do that first.

The Bestiary always takes a while to load, so Louis gets up from his desk to get himself a fresh cup of tea. He’s going to be here for at least another hour, probably, so he’s going to need tea. He pulls his arms behind his back and stretches out the cricks in his spine while he walks over to the little lounge. They’re meant to relax here on their lunch breaks but Louis’s hardly ever in the office at all and when he is he tends to work through his lunch break. He’s really only ever in here because it’s where the kettle is. He fills it and flicks it on with his mind still stuck on _Harreesi_. Of course the kid had to change his twitter and instagram handles to it. A full name would make Louis’ job of tracking him and the egg down far too easy. He fishes a teabag from the box and as he goes to drop it into his mug realises that he’s left the mug at his desk.

He huffs an annoyed breath.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbles.

The kettle steams, clicks as it turns off automatically, and there’s a knock on the doorframe behind him.

“Forget something?” Zayn asks, mug dangling from one hand where he’s leaning against the aforementioned doorframe.

“Lifesaver,” Louis says and snatches his mug, dropping the tea bag in it and pouring the water.

“Also life ruiner,” he says with a glare when he turns back around to Zayn. Zayn has the decency to look a bit contrite.

“That rumour turn out to be something then?” Zayn asks.

“If it’s not it’s a really good fake,” Louis sighs, blowing on the tea even though that never does anything, as far as he can tell. “Couldn’t find anything that looks like it in the dragon archive though.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“Those never end well,” he comments.

Louis sighs again. Problem is, Zayn’s right. Why is it never harmless songbirds that hatch when unsuspecting civilians find unusual eggs rolling about the countryside?

“I’m gonna go trawl through the Bestiary. Wanna help?” he asks.

Zayn hesitates for a moment, which is really more than Louis expected when he asked.

“Well. Pezza and I--” Zayn starts. Louis waves him off with a fond smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Go home to the missus,” he interrupts.

“Not married yet,” Zayn grins, with the joy of the happily engaged. Louis sometimes wishes he weren’t such a romantic. It’d be far easier to be angry at Zayn for dropping this into his lap and then fucking off to enjoy his own weekend if Louis didn’t find Zayn and Perrie so bleeding adorable.

“You might as well be,” Louis says, patting Zayn on the arm as he passes him. They walk back to Louis’ desk together, where the starting menu of the Bestiary now appears fully loaded on his monitor and Zayn seems to have deposited his bag and leather jacket on Louis’ chair. Louis raises an eyebrow at Zayn who grins and takes his things. Louis primly sits down and takes a careful sip of his tea.

“Good luck,” Zayn says, shrugging on his jacket. “Don’t stay too long.”

“National safety could be at risk, Zayn,” Louis protests, affecting shock. Zayn snorts a laugh and leans down to give Louis a brief hug.

“Not really,” Zayn says. “Sorry to ruin your fantasy but you’re actually not the last line of defense Queen and country have.”

“I see my cover’s still intact,” Louis quips and grins at Zayn as he’s backing away.

“Honestly, Tommo, go home tonight. The bags under your eyes could scare off a Hammertail,” Zayn calls out, pressing the button to call the lift. Louis squawks in indignation and Zayn laughs. Before Louis can do anything else, Zayn steps into the lift - because of course the lift would play along with Zayn’s dramatic exit, the whole _universe_ sometimes seems to bend to best accommodate Zayn.

Louis sighs into the silence left behind by Zayn’s departure. It seems heavy, suddenly; the kind of silence that bends the walls of a room outwards and when Louis looks around he realises he’s the last one still here. Brilliant. If he wants to move on this soon though - and he really should, as it’s looking likely that this _Harreesi_ has actually found an egg that will hatch something, even if it’s not a dragon - he needs to be prepared to leave on Monday. So he either stays late or comes in on the weekend. Or, if he’s very, very unlucky, both.

“Music,” Louis mutters to himself and digs his phone out of his bag, dons his headphones and presses play on his favourites playlist. He takes a sip of tea and hums along to the opening lines of Drops of Jupiter. Back in the atmosphere indeed.

The initial search of the Bestiary gives him one hundred and twenty-five possible species. Only seventy-three of those are known to live in Britain, but that still leaves him with seventy-three species’ eggs to look at. Manually. And then all the dragons laying purple or green eggs, just to check for deviation. Also manually.

Louis takes another sip of tea, then a deep breath, releases it slowly and clicks on the first one.

Almost three hours later he has two somewhat likely candidates, neither of them dragons (there were both too many of those with purple or green eggs and too few whose eggs even vaguely resemble this one to make a judgement either way). The Cerastes - an exceptionally flexible snake with horns it uses as bait before strangling its victims, how delightful, and the Jaculus - a kind of flying snake that hides in trees and crushes small prey by dropping down onto it. Neither of them are poisonous, so they should be rather harmless freshly hatched, but they could also be mistaken for baby dragons by people like _Harreesi_ who don’t know how to take dragons seriously, and sadly these beasts have a tendency to grow into their killing rather quickly.

That’s why there are people like Louis whose job it is to make sure these things don’t happen. Technically Louis’ specialty is dragons, but as long as this doesn’t turn out to definitely not be a dragon it’s still his to take care of. And it’s not like every species has their own specialist at every local PAMC branch. They’re a government organisation, their funds are more than just limited. Hence Louis’ unpaid overtime and the horrific bruises under his eyes.

To be quite honest, neither the Cerastes nor the Jaculus egg look all that similar to the one on _Harreesi’s_ instagram, but they’re the right colours, at least, so Louis decides to call it quits. He logs into his official twitter account, the one that links to PAMC, and adds the kid, shooting him a tweet about how he’s interested in his find and would like to talk. He’s got to find out who and where he is somehow. The “Wales” in his bio doesn’t really narrow the search down much.

He sings along to Imagine Aliens as he powers down his computer and packs his bag before rinsing out his mug. A text from Zayn reminding him to go home and get some sleep comes through just as he shrugs on his jacket. Louis grins at his phone and sends Zayn a series of snapchats of his empty desk, the lift doors and then the dark sky overhead when he gets outside. It’s early May and the nights still get quite chilly, especially when it rains, like it had earlier today. But the air smells crisp and new and Louis will take a bit of chill for that any day.

Zayn sends back a picture of pizza boxes and wine glasses stained red, reminding Louis of his own takeaway and superhero plans for the night. He might have to downsize the movie marathon a bit, but he can sleep in tomorrow and he’s earned at least The Avengers and some pad thai. He replies to Zayn with a cross-eyed selfie, for lack of anything to say, and then makes his way to his car. The flat waiting for him may sometimes seem overly empty, especially when he returns from trips like these, but it’s comfortable and warm and his.

* * *

He wakes on Saturday in his own bed for the first time in almost three weeks, feeling well-rested all the way down into his bones. He stretches languidly, refusing staunchly to peek over at the alarm clock on his bedside table lest it shatter the good mood he woke up in, and tries to decide what to do with his day. A game of footie, maybe, if he can find people who’ll play with him.

But first - some breakfast.

Luckily he thought to restock his breakfast cereal and milk yesterday before going into the office, so he prepares a bowl of that and turns up the radio while he eats, enjoying the crunch of the honey wheat and the happy bubbling of music from the radio. Morning radio has always been his favourite, maybe because he used to listen to it when getting ready for school. He’d rather not be awake for it, but as it is he quite likes listening to it.

After breakfast he briefly eyes his tablet, but decides to have a long, warm shower first instead. It’s Saturday. He doesn’t have to check his work email first thing. Or second thing. Third thing is more than enough.

Louis stands under the shower long enough that his fingers start pruning - though honestly it doesn’t take all that long - and he’s got a rosy flush from the heat when he does finally climb back out. He towels his hair off so it won’t drip down his back and the rubs the towel over the rest of his body. It’s warm enough now that he stands naked in his bathroom while brushing his teeth, mind already climbing out of the pleasantly drowsy state the shower put him in and back to _Harreesi_.

Louis is equally frustrated and excited by the fact that he has as of yet been unable to clearly identify the species the egg belongs to. He’d think it a clear sign of being a hoax if the egg didn’t look so damn realistic. The surface seems a milky reflective, the way dragon’s eggs are for the first month after having been laid, and rough, like a real egg. The relative size and colours are indicative of dragons as well. If it’s a fake it seems unlikely that someone would research all that but not a specific species of dragon to fake.

He spits out the toothpaste, and rinses his mouth and the basin. Right. He’ll check to see if _Harreesi_ has responded to his tweet from last night but if there’s no answer he’ll take the day off and see about that game of footie. Zayn is right, he spends far too much time on the job.

Now dressed in worn joggers and t-shirt, he find himself back at the breakfast counter, tablet in front of him and the radio still playing in the background. He hums along to a few bars of a song he can’t name but recognises anyway while he watches the tablet come to live and then impatiently pulls up his twitter app. There’s a little “1” waiting for him, hovering by his notifications.

@Harreesi: @Tomlinson_PAMC How do I know you’re not pulling my leg?

... is this kid joking? Louis’ account links to PAMC. It’s a _verified account_. Those can’t exactly be faked, can they.

Louis sighs to himself but then sees that _Harreesi_ has followed him, so he can at least send him DMs now.

“My account’s verified. If you don’t trust that you can call up the London office and ask for Louis Tomlinson on Monday. I just want to help,” he sends and then stares at the instagram pictures of _Harreesi_ ’s egg for another fifteen minutes, waiting to see if he’ll answer right away. When he doesn’t, Louis closes the app and reaches for his phone instead. Time to call Zayn and ask if he and the lads are up for a game of footie.

It rings once, twice before Zayn picks up.

“Hiya, babe!”

Correction. Before _Perrie_ picks up.

“Perrie, love! Hi! Is Zayn still not out of bed?” Louis asks. Perrie giggles and then tells one of their myriad of animals to get off of something before returning to the conversation.

“No, no, we’ve been up for a while,” she says. Probably Perrie’s been up for a while, since she’s always the one taking their puppy on its morning walk before crawling back into bed with a still asleep Zayn.

“Zayn’s just having a shower,” Perrie explains.

“Ah,” Louis says. “I was just calling to see if you two had any plans or if he, Danny and Ant fancied a bit of a kickabout.”

“Ooh!” Perrie says immediately and enthusiastically. “Great idea. I’ll call the girls and we can do five-a-side!”

“Yeah? Sounds like fun,” Louis says, grin wide on his face. Perrie’s girls are great. They’re not particularly good at football, but they’re enthusiastic, far tougher than their size suggests and competitive as all hell. 

“Great! Would you like to stay for dinner after? I meant to have Zayn invite you round this weekend anyway. He said you’re already working yourself into the ground over a new case...” she says then, drifting off in that worried tone Louis knows from conversations with his mother. He can’t help but roll his eyes.

“I’m not ‘working myself into the ground’, don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “And Zayn’s the one who gave me the new case, so he really shouldn’t be the one complaining!”

Perrie laughs.

“Well, passing jobs on is _his_ job, isn’t it,” she says.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all just doing our part,” he says. “But I’d love to come over for dinner after. Shall I come straight to yours or come back home first? D’you want me to bring something?”

“No, no, no need. I still need to pop down to the shops anyway. I was thinking we could have the first barbecue of the season, since it’s been getting warmer? We can start it in the late afternoon,” she suggests.

“Perrie, love, you’re a genius,” Louis says. “You sure you don’t want me to bring anything? I can make a salad or something.”

“No, that’d be silly. Just make it here,” she says. Zayn must have come back from the shower then, since Louis can hear him asking ‘who you on the phone to, babe?’ in the background.

“Louis called, we’re gonna have a five-a-side footie match and then a barbecue,” she says to Zayn, her voice sounding a lot farther away with how she’s probably angled her head away from the phone to talk to Zayn.

“Alright, sick,” he can hear Zayn say and then the unmistakable sound of lips smacking together in a kiss.

“I think that’s my cue,” he says with a grin. “I really don’t need to hear this.”

Perrie laughs into the phone.

“Shall we say at about two then? Down at the park near ours?”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll call Stan if you call the rest,” Louis says.

Perrie laughs again.

“Leaving me to do all the work again, Tomlinson,” she mock-complains. “I’ll see you at two then, yeah?”

“Perfect. See you later, love. Give Zayn a kiss from me and use protection!”

Never let it be said Louis Tomlinson misses out on an opportunity to be obnoxious. Perrie laughs down the line and then she and Zayn are both making kissy noises into the phone and shouting “bye, bye, bye” before the line goes dead. Louis puts down his phone with a grin, scrolling through his contacts for Stan’s name, shooting him a quick text. He watches baby dragons trying to breathe fire on youtube on his tablet while he waits for a reply.

When it comes - “Aces mate. See ya there.” - it’s almost instantly followed by a push notification about a new DM on his twitter account. He pulls it up with a few touches of his finger and grins to himself when he sees it.

@Harreesi: Okay. So what is it you want?

Well. At least the kid’s blunt.

@Tomlinson_PAMC: To make sure neither you nor the potential dragon egg get hurt. I’d like to come by to have a look at the egg.

The answer this time comes almost instantaneously. _Harreesi_ is clearly sitting at the other end of their connection, waiting.

@Harreesi: I’ll call PAMC London on Monday and give them my address if you check out. Nothing personal, I just don’t hand out my details online.

Louis sighs. Fair enough. He can’t really blame the lad for that. Louis at least knows he needs to pack for Wales. He’ll just take a bag into work and leave as soon as he can. Thank god he hasn’t bought many perishables yet.

@Tomlinson_PAMC: Fair enough. In the meantime I’d appreciate it if you informed me immediately if anything weird is going on with your egg.

@Harreesi: Alright, will do. Have a nice weekend, Louis Tomlinson!

Louis’ll be fucked if he addresses the kid by his stupid screenname. If he wants to play coy with his name, Louis can play along. He’ll know on Monday.

@Tomlinson_PAMC: And to you.

Certain that _Harreesi_ won’t be responding, he powers his tablet down and turns on the twitter push notifications on his phone. Just in case. The egg looks like it’s still a week away from hatching at least, but it’s hard to tell over instagram photos - bloody filters - and it’s not like it’s an exact science anyway. It’s like all babies. It’ll come out when it’s ready.

Louis sighs, staring at his phone. He is _not_ working himself into the ground, but he can’t very well leave some boy somewhere in the Welsh countryside alone with an as of yet unidentified egg about to hatch, can he? Not keeping open a channel of communication would just be plain irresponsible. Sure, it could still turn out to be a convincing fake (though that’s not Louis’ gut feeling and Louis’ gut usually knows what’s up), or a harmless not-dragon. Even a harmless dragon. But there are also the strangling and crushing snakes that could be inside it. Point is, Louis doesn’t know. So push notifications it is. He’s determined to still enjoy as much of this weekend as he can. Starting with the five aside.

He throws his phone onto the bed while he changes into footie shorts and a t-shirt, zipping up a hoodie over it. His cleats and clothes to change into go into a bag, along with a bottle of water, his keys and wallet. His sunglasses prove to be a bit elusive but eventually surface on his bookshelf - he doesn’t plan on questioning how they got there - so all he needs to do is slip on shoes, plug his headphones into his phone and he’s off. Halfway down the second flight of stairs he changes his mind and goes back to fetch a light jacket. If he does end up going over to Zayn and Perrie’s directly after the game he might need it in the evening when he’s coming back.

Perrie runs up to him and wraps him up in a hug as soon as she spots him, letting him lift her up and spin her around.

“You’re baaaaack,” she sing-songs into his ear before he sets her back down.

“And all in one piece and everything,” he grins. Truthfully his recent assignment hadn’t been that dangerous. The escaped dragon he’d helped retrieve had been rather docile in the end, but Perrie worries.

“Are you staying around for a bit then?” she asks, linking their arms and walking them back to where Zayn and Perrie’s girls are standing around and chatting. Leigh-Anne seems to be fawning over Zayn’s new hair cut. At least that’s what Louis’s taking from her petting his hair and the grin on Zayn’s face. Then again she might be petting his hair just because.

“Er, no,” Louis says, a little sheepishly, raking his free hand through his own hair. “I’m going to Wales on Monday, actually.”

“Already?” Perrie asks, eyes wide. “Is it that new thing?”

“Yeah. The kid’s pretty insistent it’s the real deal and whatever it is I’ve got to go check it out, y’know?”

Perrie sighs and pouts.

“But you only just got back.”

Louis can’t help but laugh and pulls her a bit closer to press a kiss to her currently-purple hair.

“Are you flirting with my fiancée again?” Zayn asks, good-natured smile on his lips as he watches them approach.

“I’ll have you know she’s the one who accosted me and then whined about how I’m never around,” Louis says, setting down his bag.

“Well, you’re not,” Perrie says, hands on her hips even as Zayn winds an arm around her and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to her cheek. It tempers the pout on her face at least, even if it was mostly pretend.

“Are you leaving again?” Zayn asks. “Is that kid legit then?”

“Probably, yeah,” Louis says with a sigh and a what-can-you-do kind of shrug before he bends down to get his cleats from the bag and put them on.

“Who’s legit?” Leigh-Anne asks, looking between Perrie, Zayn and Louis.

“There’s this kid in Wales who claims he found a dragon egg and posts pictures of it on instagram,” Louis explains.

“What? No way!” Jesy says.

“And you think it’s real?” Jade asks, excitement clear in her voice.

“Well, it’s almost definitely really _something_ ,” Louis says. “Probably not a dragon though. Even if he calls himself ‘Harreesi, father of dragons’.”

Louis rolls his eyes and puts a significant amount of derision in his voice, but Jade and Jesy laugh delightedly anyway. Of course they’d be into it. They don’t deal with people who refer to themselves as Real Life Daenerys for a living.

“But why do _you_ have to go?” Perrie asks, pout back on her lips. “Can’t the Welsh PAMC do something about that?”

“Wales is notoriously short-staffed, Pez,” Zayn explains. Louis nods along.

“Plus, it’s sort of what I do, right? Going wherever they need me most,” Louis adds. It is. It’s in his contract. He’s based in London, but he doesn’t belong to London HQ the same way, say, Zayn does. It’s Louis’ second favourite part of the job, actually, getting to travel around semi-frequently. He bitches and moans about it and it _is_ exhausting, but it’s also pretty great.

“You’ll have to let them know you’re coming at least, though,” Zayn points out. Louis rolls his eyes. _Honestly_.

“I _have_ done this before, Zayn. I’m aware of the office politics involved.”

“Speaking of - have you actually already cleared it with Ben? You only came in yesterday,” Zayn asks. Louis laughs and leans back onto his hands. It’s warm today with the sun out. The ground’s even lost a bit of the perpetual winter chill.

“Nah. _Harreesi_ ’s gonna call the HQ on Monday and give me the address. I’ll just tell Ben I’m going then,” Louis says and shrugs. Zayn grins and shakes his head, while Perrie laughs.

“Wish I could just tell my boss what I’m going to do instead of the other way around,” she says, a little wistfully. Louis grins. He does have a bit of a strange relationship with his boss. It’s not his fault he’s been doing all this longer than Ben though and thus actually knows what he’s doing. If the position weren’t a desk job Louis could probably have angled for that promotion when his old boss moved last year.

“One day you’ll just be your own boss, Pezza,” Louis says.

Perrie sighs wistfully at that, prompting Zayn to kiss her cheek again and Leigh-Anne to cuddle into her other side.

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Perrie says.

Louis reaches out to tap his toes against her ankle lightly. Really he shouldn’t complain so much about his job. He gets paid to do what he loves - most of the time - while other people like Perrie have to scrounge up every penny to at some point be able to open up their own hair salon. What does it matter that the equipment they get supplied with is just this side of ancient or that Louis sometimes feels like he’s single-handedly keeping their zoological database up to date or that his boss doesn’t really know what he’s doing or --

No. No complaining.

“Oh, he’s quite cute,” Jade suddenly says apropos of seemingly nothing, pulling Louis out of his thoughts.

“You think?” Jesy asks, like she doesn’t see it.

Louis tilts his head up to see them leaning over a phone, shuffling over to afford Leigh-Anne and Perrie a better view, even as Jade shrugs and replies.

“Well, he’s pretty. Not, like, _for me_ , but objectively speaking. He’s got them lips.”

“His nose is a bit weird though,” Leigh-Anne says, clearly not buying what Jade’s selling either.

“Yeah, and that’s just too much jaw,” Jesy adds.

“Aw, don’t be mean!” Perrie reprimands her. “Look at his eyes! I can see it.”

That, of course, gets Zayn’s attention. Not that he ever really shows it, but Louis suspects there’s at least a tiny measure of jealousy involved in his interest in people Perrie thinks are pretty. Well, Louis thinks, tilting his head and debating getting up himself for a look at whoever it is, it’s either that or just that they’ve got the same taste in blokes.

“What do you think, Louis?” Jade asks, making all five of them turn to look down at him.

“How would I know? I can’t see from down here,” he says.

Jesy rolls her eyes like he’s being an idiot.

“Your dragon boy,” she says.

Louis furrows his brows. Sure, he noticed there were selfies and pictures of food - a veritable abundance of cakes and other baked goods, most notably - and artsy-fartsy black and white shots of, like, lakes and bicycles with no tyres, but he was really only focused on the eight recent shots of the egg. It’s not as though food and artsy things are exactly rare on instagram either. Louis thinks he can be forgiven for not paying attention.

He shrugs.

“Can’t say I was looking,” he says.

Jesy rolls her eyes again, plucks the phone from Jade’s hand and turns it around, stretching her arm down to shove the phone in Louis’ face. It shows a selfie of who Louis assumes to be _Harreesi_ ; he really wasn’t paying enough attention to recognise him. The bloke seems about their age, hair pulled back into a bun at the back of his head, even if there are little strands sticking out from next to his ears and curling at the nape of his neck. His nose _is_ a bit weird and he _does_ have quite a lot of jaw, but Louis’s with Jade and Perrie on this one. He has big lips and bigger eyes and even through the cheesy grin he’s pulling - the caption just says ‘mooooorning’ - Louis can’t say he finds his face entirely unattractive.

He shrugs.

“He’s alright,” he says.

“You’re useless, Tommo,” Jesy complains and pulls the phone back up.

The girls obviously go back to looking at the rest of his selfies, but Eleanor, Stan, Danny and Ant show up before they can really get into it, saving them all from an in-depth discussion of _Harreesi’s_ physical appearance. Louis jumps at the chance and up from the ground, grabbing his shoes and the ball Stan brought and takes off to mark off a goal, kicking the ball along.

“Are we doing this or what?” he calls back to where the others are all still chatting and hugging and catching up.

“Hold your horses, Tommo!” Jesy calls back with a huge grin.

“We’ll trounce your lovely behind soon enough!” Eleanor adds, even as Louis can see her hugging everyone hello.

Louis laughs. He can always count on them and their big mouths for a bit of shit talking, even if they rarely follow it up with anything of substance. At least when it comes to their little kickabouts. Still, the girls put up a good fight - Leigh-Anne is especially vicious - and the good mood carries all the way through the barbecue at Zayn and Perrie’s place and until Louis blinks his eyes open on Sunday around noon. He has no plans for the day and lounges around his flat until _Harreesi_ posts another picture of the egg to instagram, the milky newly-laid film all but gone from the egg. Louis frowns at it and then gets up to pack.

* * *

“Has he called yet?” Louis asks as he passes Zayn’s desk on Monday morning.

Zayn looks up from where he’s hanging his coat over the back of his chair to give him an incredulous look.

“It’s eight in the morning. I’ve been here for five minutes,” he says.

“So he hasn’t called?”

“No, he hasn’t called. I’ll let you know the second he does,” Zayn says, exasperated.

Louis nods.

“Ben in yet?” he asks then. Zayn snorts and shakes his head.

“Has he ever come in before nine?”

“Right. Forget I asked,” Louis concedes with a wry grin.

“What’s got you so antsy? You seemed fine on Saturday,” Zayn asks, sitting down at this chair and booting up the computer.

“He posted another photo. The film on the egg’s gone,” Louis says, trying not to wring his hands and heaving a sigh instead. Zayn’s eyes widen and he gives a quiet “oh”.

“You really think he’s got a dragon?” he asks, almost just as quietly. Louis shrugs.

“I think he’s got _something_. I just don’t want it to kill him or anyone else when it comes out of that egg,” Louis says.

Zayn gives him a smile.

“It won’t. He’ll call and you’ll be there by tonight. You’ve still got at least a week until it hatches. It’ll be alright.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, absently. It bugs him that he hasn’t been able to find anything definitive on the egg colours or pattern. The most obvious solution for that - that it’s some sort of hybrid, as those egg patterns are notoriously impossible to predict - is also the most worrying one. You never quite know what you’re getting with crossbreeding, which is why it’s so strictly regulated. It generally doesn’t occur much in the wild, even if it’s not entirely unheard of.

“Well, off you go. Better get a report prepared for Ben to send over to Wales,” Zayn says, making shooing motions with his hands. Louis grins at him but backs away.

“Already did that last night,” he says before turning around.

“Workaholic,” Zayn calls after him. Louis laughs and waves a hand over his shoulder. First he needs tea. Then he’s going to look over the report, prepare what to say to Ben and wait for _Harreesi_ to call.

When Ben gets in at nine-thirty, Louis trails him into his room with his tablet under his arm, making Ben sigh deeply and smile a little chagrined.

“Louis. What can I do for you?” Ben says, sitting down heavily behind his desk.

Louis pulls up the pictures he took off of _Harreesi’s_ instagram on his tablet and puts it down for Ben to look at.

“There’s a kid in Wales posting these on instagram. He insists it’s a real egg and the photos do seem convincing. There’s nothing in the database that matches the description - dragon or otherwise. I want to go to Wales and check it out,” Louis says.

“I assume you’ve got a full write-up?” Ben asks, lip curled in a wry smile.

“Already in your email inbox,” Louis confirms, barely resisting the urge to clasp his hands behind his back like an over-eager school boy.

“You just got back from your last off site assignment on Friday,” Ben points out.

“Paperworks all done, boss,” Louis says.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Ben says. Louis grins and shrugs. He loves the travelling, even if no one will believe him. Just because he’ll be thirty this year doesn’t mean he suddenly wants to settle down and pop out kids, figuratively speaking. This life is still too exciting. Or at least he hasn’t found anything (or anyone) exciting enough to make him stay put indefinitely.

“Where in Wales is he? We’ll have to contact the local branch, send your report over,” Ben asks.

“I’m still waiting for him to tell me his exact location. He said he’d call today,” Louis says.

“And you trust him to do that?”

“If not we can always get his location from instagram if we get the police involved. It might be a matter of citizen safety,” Louis points out.

“That takes at least a week,” Ben says. “This egg looks ready to hatch, if it’s real.”

“Yes; we know that, but he doesn’t,” Louis says, trying not to grin too shark-like. He’s found the suggestion the police might get involved generally loosens tongues quite quickly.

“Just don’t do anything illegal, Tomlinson,” Ben says on a sigh and hands Louis his tablet back.

“So I can go?” Louis asks.

“Yes, yes. Official permission granted and everything. I’ll read through your report and prepare the forms so you can leave as soon as you know where you’re going,” Ben says and turns to his computer in a clear dismissal.

“Thanks, boss,” Louis says, affects a salute and goes back to his own station.

By the time _Harreesi_ calls it’s past noon and Louis is ready to climb the walls. He doesn’t have anything to do but trawl through the databases again to see if he’d overlooked something and while he does have a far larger capacity for patience when it comes to research than people generally assume, it’s not necessarily his favourite part of the job. Especially not when he’s waiting for something else to happen and doesn’t even know what he’s looking for in the first place. It makes it all feel rather much like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack.

So when Zayn calls his desk, Louis doesn’t even bother picking up, but instead makes a beeline straight for Zayn’s work station. Zayn gives him an exasperated look, but hands over a little travel itinerary.

“You brought your bag, yes?” Zayn asks, before Louis can even open his mouth.

“Yeah, why?”

“Your train to Cardiff leaves from London Paddington in an hour and twenty minutes,” Zayn says with a grin. “There’s a car rental right behind Cardiff Central - I printed off a map for you. Car’s paid for and waiting. You’re going to Llandovery. Easiest route’s through Brecon Beacons National Park; I’ve put a map of that in as well, but you’ll have a sat nav. The closest PAMC branch is in Abergavenny; you’ve helped them out before, right? They know you’re coming, are happy to have you back and prepared to offer any assistance you may need.”

Louis has indeed helped them out before. That specific branch mostly deals with the dragons in the habitat in Brecon Beacons, like the one up by Inverness that deals with the Lochs Habitat and the Cairngorms Park Habitat. Every now and then they lose a dragon, since the habitat perimeter is mostly meant to keep everyone and -thing else out and not to keep the dragons in. Louis has helped locate his fair share of them. Other than travelling around for London HQ, those branch offices are the ones that Louis likes best. Dragons are the Special Field of his zoology degree after all.

“‘Course they are,” Louis says, perhaps belatedly, still leafing through the folder Zayn gave him. There’s a reservation for a room as well and contact information for _Harreesi_ , whose real name is apparently Harry Styles. It seems almost as unlikely.

“What did he sound like? Styles?” Louis asks.

Zayn shrugs.

“Normal? Bit serious, but that might just be his voice. He agreed to meet you for dinner and let you see the egg, depending on when you arrive. You should be there by seven, so that should work out fine,” Zayn says.

Right. Louis is seeing that egg tonight even if he has to throw Styles out of bed at midnight.

“Great,” Louis says.

“Well, if that’s all, you’ve got a train to catch,” Zayn grins.

Louis laughs a little and leans over to smack a kiss to Zayn’s cheek.

“Thanks, Zee, you’re the best.”

“Just trying to keep you away from my fiancée,” Zayn grins back. Louis taps Zayn’s desk with the folder once and then backs up. They both know that’s not it.

“Hey, text when you get there?” Zayn calls after him.

Louis turns back around to smile at Zayn.

“Yeah, sure,” he says and then goes to collect his things from his desk. He rinses his mug in record time and then hurries off. He grabs a sandwich and a drink from Upper Crust at Paddington - which always makes him feel like far more of a posh bastard than he is - before hopping on the train only a few minutes before it leaves the station. The car rental in Cardiff is easily found with the help of Zayn’s map and the drive to Llandovery is as scenic as Louis expected and as easy as Zayn said.

As soon as he puts his bags down in the room Zayn had reserved for him, Louis gets out Harry Styles’ contact information and calls.

It rings twice before he picks up.

“Styles?”

“Mr. Styles, this is Louis Tomlinson. From PAMC?” Louis says.

“Oh, yes, of course. Did you make it alright?” Styles asks.

How polite.

“Yes, thank you,” Louis says. “I hear you’re taking me out to dinner?”

Styles laughs and Louis can’t help but grin. Sense of humour is always good. It’ll make this easier, or at least more pleasant. Plus, it’s a nice laugh.

“I am, yes. I’m just closing up and then I need to go check on the egg. I can come pick you up afterwards?” Styles offers.

“Actually... would you mind terribly if I had a look at the egg with you?” Louis asks, fully prepared to push if Styles does indeed mind.

“Oh. No. Of course. I’ll text you the address,” Styles says. He seems a bit surprised, like he didn’t expect Louis to get right down to business, which makes Louis wonder if he even knows the first thing about dragons. Surely if he does he must have noticed that his egg is about to hatch. And surely with that knowledge it’d be understandable that Louis would want to see it right away?

“Alright. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but I assume I won’t be long,” Louis says.

Styles laughs again.

“No, I assume you won’t be either. Where are you staying?” he asks.

“The Kings Arms,” Louis says, pulling out the little map of the surroundings of the inn that Zayn had printed off for him. Always thinks of everything, that one.

“Oh, perfect! I’m just over on Orchard Street. I’ve a little bakery, ‘Wobblebelly’. You can’t miss it,” Styles says.

Louis tracks his finger over the streets until he finds Orchard Street, wondering what the hell a small Welsh dragon has to do with baking. This Styles character is obviously an odd one.

“Oh,” he says when he finds Orchard Street. “That seems close.”

Styles chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s just about a five minute walk. If you come over right away I’ll just leave the door open for you?”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Louis says, already getting up from the bed and pushing his wallet into the pocket of his jeans.

“Great! I’ll see you shortly then,” Styles says.

“Perfect. I look forward to it, Mr. Styles,” Louis says and at Styles’ “as do I” hangs up to put his phone into his other pocket. Now. Hotel room keys... where did he put those? He grabs his jacket from where he dropped it on the bed, stuffs the map in a pocket and finds the keys underneath his jacket, putting them with his wallet after he’s locked up his room. The elderly man behind the reception desk smiles at him with twinkly eyes as he makes for the door, so Louis gives him a smile and a jovial wave before stepping out onto the street. He pulls out the map just to make sure he’s going in the right direction and then takes off.

On the way, he shoots Zayn that text he promised him, receiving a warning not to scare anyone off in return. Louis rolls his eyes. He can be diplomatic.

‘Wobblebelly’ really is easy to spot, what with its old-fashioned metal sign of a Welsh Wobblebelly curling around the letters hanging off the building. Louis stares at it for a moment with a raised eyebrows and then tentatively reaches out for the door. The sign says ‘closed’, but Styles had said he’d leave the door open, so...

It swings open when Louis pulls and there’s soft music coming from a back room, so Louis steps inside and pulls the door shut behind himself.

“Mr. Styles?” he calls into the empty shop. He’s not at all shy about exploring unfamiliar settings, but it seems like the polite thing to do not to just barge right in.

“I’ll be right out!” Styles calls back, so Louis takes to looking around the room. The walls are painted a fresh, pastel mint green and the three small tables with two chairs each in front of the large shop window are white. So is the counter with a glass display that Louis guesses is filled with all sorts of baked goods during business hours. Behind the counter there are two doors - one wide open and leading into a tiled room that Louis assumes is the kitchen and where the music’s coming from, the other one only a bit open to reveal a set of stairs leading up. Probably Mr. Styles lives just upstairs; it seems like one of those old shop-and-a-flat buildings.

The room is cosy, in a strange way that Louis can’t place, even with its pastel-50s-flair that’s not really his style. On one of the short walls of the room, perpendicular to the counter, there’s a (white) shelf with all sorts of baking gadgets - food dye and all sorts of sugar decorations, novelty shape cookie cutters and cake pop presses. Louis thinks those are the cake balls that come on sticks, but he’s not entirely sure. He’s just inspecting a patterned fondant rolling pin - whatever that may be - when the music shuts off. Hastily he puts it back and takes a step away from the shelf as if he’d had his hand in the proverbial cookie jar and about to be caught by his mother.

The first thing that Louis notices about the bloke that steps out from the probably-kitchen is that he’s a lot taller than he’d looked in that photo Jesy had showed him. Louis can’t say why he’s so surprised by that. Maybe because most of these dragon-egg-online-things turn out to be teenagers or barely uni students with things that are decidedly not dragon eggs.

Styles is definitely no teenager. 

His hair is pulled back into a bun the same way it had been in that photo and Louis tries to remember how he’d thought his nose was a little off and his jaw a bit _too much_ because in person Harry Styles is, for lack of a better word, quite stunning.

“Mr. Tomlinson, I assume?” Mr. Styles says with a smile and closes the door to the probably-kitchen behind himself.

“Yes,” Louis says and steps forward, mentally berating himself and vowing to look at one of the pictures of Zayn on his phone as soon as he’s got a minute to himself as a reminder that he functions perfectly well in the presence of far more beautiful people on a day-to-day basis.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” he adds. Styles seems like the kind of person to appreciate politeness.

“It’s no problem,” Styles says, still smiling. He holds out his hand for Louis to shake over the counter when Louis reaches it.

“Please, call me Harry,” he says as Louis grabs it. Louis nods and gives his hand a little shake. He can roll with that.

“Louis, then,” he replies.

Before either of them can say anything else, a mostly black calico kitten traipses down the stairs and slips into the room. Styles swoops down and briefly vanishes behind the counter, picking it up.

“You know you’re not allowed in here, Toothless,” he says to the cat and then makes its little paw wave at Louis like he thinks cats are the perfect ice breakers.

“Toothless?” Louis repeats.

“Yeah,” Styles says. “Like from-”

“‘How To Train Your Dragon’, yeah. I know it,” Louis says. He can’t quite keep the derision out of his voice but he’s also not trying very hard. Styles is Louis’ age and trying to hatch a dragon egg. He should absolutely know better.

“You don’t like it?” Styles asks, having picked up on Louis’ tone.

“No. It’s ridiculously inaccurate - historically as well as pertaining to dragons,” Louis says. He tends to go on rants about it with very little prompting. No prompting at all, actually, when he’s had the right number of pints.

“Well, it’s a fantasy story for kids, not a documentary,” Styles says, smile not dimming one bit.

“Then they shouldn’t have named it ‘How To Train Your Dragon’, should they?” Louis says. The second installment had been even worse. _Alpha dragons_ , honestly. They’re dragons, not wolves!

Styles actually laughs.

“I don’t think many people will take it seriously,” he says.

Louis’ snort is definitely not all nice.

“You’d be surprised.”

Styles looks at Louis like he’s trying to work him out and then smiles again, grabs a set of keys from under the counter and strides across the room to lock up the front door, punching a few numbers into the alarm system to activate it.

“Well, if you still want to see the egg, I keep it upstairs,” he says. If he still --? Of course Louis still wants to see the egg. He didn’t come out into the middle of Welsh nowhere just to hang out in a bakery.

“Of course, yes. Thank you,” Louis says instead and follows Styles up the stairs, pulling the door to the shop closed behind himself. Styles sets the cat down as soon as it can’t escape into the shop anymore and it circles Styles’ feet for a bit before trotting up the stairs in front of him.

“Well, this is me,” Styles says, waving his arm around in a welcoming gesture. Louis’s not sure if he’s supposed to comment on the decor or something like that, so he smiles briefly at his host and then leans down to take off his shoes. He takes off his jacket as well, but keeps it slung over his arm as he follows Styles further into the flat. He won’t be staying long, after all.

Styles kneels in front of an open fireplace and shoos the cat away before taking down the fireguard, revealing the egg sitting amidst softly glowing embers. Well. At least he’s doing that right, if it is indeed a dragon egg, Louis supposes.

“My sister keeps telling me I’ll have the most overcooked egg if it’s not a dragon egg,” Styles says, smiling up at Louis.

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Louis replies, kneeling down beside Styles. Styles laughs and lifts the cat up against his chest again instead of constantly trying to keep her away from the fireplace. Surprisingly the cat seems to like it, as it settles against his chest quite easily.

“May I?” Louis asks, gesturing to the mitts lying on the ledge in front of the fireplace.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Styles says. “Can you tell which kind of dragon it is?”

Louis putts on the mitts and reaches out towards the egg, moving it around a bit to check it for any kind of damage. It does seem to be intact and now that he’s seen it in real life he’s almost certain it must be dragon. Even through the mitts he can feel the rough surface typical of dragon eggs after the milky laying film dries up.

“No,” he turns to Styles to say, albeit a bit belatedly. “I could, usually, but this one...”

He bites his lip.

“I tried looking it up but I couldn’t find it. I just thought that’s because the full edition of the Dragon Database isn’t online,” Styles says.

“It’s not in our database either,” Louis says and then turns around to look at Styles.

“Look. Harry,” he says, reminding himself to use Styles’ first name. It’s always a bit strange, calling a client by their first name so soon, but at the same time he can’t imagine calling him ‘Mr. Styles’ either. “It might not be a dragon. The only things close to this I could find in the entire Bestiary were non-dragons.”

“Oh,” Styles says, looking a bit despondent. “What kind were they?”

“The deadly kind,” Louis says. Styles’ eyes widen like it hadn’t really occurred to him that that could be a genuine possibility. Honestly, even if it is a dragon what did he think would happen? His wouldn’t breathe fire? Or grow claws and fangs?

“Oh,” Styles says, again, looking even more downtrodden. He cuddles the cat closer, making it purr. Bizarrely, Louis thinks he looks like a postcard like that, with his cat cuddled close, embers glowing in the fireplace, comfy looking jumper on with the sleeves pushed up.

He blinks the thought away and turns back to the egg, re-settling it between the embers, poking them a bit to gauge whether they’ll make it through the night.

“Could it be a hybrid?” Styles asks. “Their eggs are often hard to place, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, trying not to sound too surprised. Most people assume hybrids between the same two species always produce the same egg patterns, as most species have very straight forward and distinctive egg patterns, but for reasons that no one’s quite figured out yet that’s not the case. Hybrid eggs are a bit of a free for all.

“It could,” Louis says, taking off the mitts and putting the fireguard back in its place. “But it could also not. The point is we don’t know right now. That’s why I’m here. So that nothing goes wrong.”

“Because it might be a deadly thing.”

“Exactly.”

Styles sighs and then nods.

“How long until it hatches, you think?” he asks. Louis glances at the egg through the wrought iron fire guard.

“Can’t say exactly, but about a week, I reckon? A bit more? At least if it _is_ a dragon.”

Louis’ gut says it’s a dragon. Louis’ brain says that neither the Jaculus nor the Carestes usually lay eggs of this size. And the Carestes never have the milky film he’d seen in this eggs early photos.

“Actually, I was wondering if you used any filters for your instagram photos?” Louis asks.

Styles smiles and shakes his head.

“Not for the egg, no. Braith is already so pretty,” he says.

Louis raises an eyebrow before he can make himself not do it. At least his sigh and groan remain internal.

“Braith?” he asks.

“I named her. It means ‘freckled’,” Styles says with a shrug.

 _Of course it does_ , Louis thinks, staring at the speckled egg.

“Her?” he asks instead of making a comment about how the eggshell pattern is in no way indicative of the actual beast’s markings. Maybe Styles is just the kind of bloke who gives all (mostly) inanimate things female names.

“I think it’s a girl, yeah,” Styles says, with the confidence of a complete amateur. “Why? Do you think it’s a boy?”

“I think it’s impossible to tell through the eggshell,” Louis says.

Styles grins like he understands that but it doesn’t bother his intuition one bit.

“That’s no fun though, is it,” he says. Louis can’t help but smile.

A few moments of silence fall between them then, where Louis wonders how to say his goodbyes for the day without seeming like he wants to get out of Styles’ flat as soon as possible and what the inn’ll serve for dinner.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Styles asks then, almost unnervingly apropos.

Louis turns to look at him, surprise probably evident in his face before he smooths it over.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he says. Styles grins and waves him off.

“Nonsense. I would have taken you out for dinner anyway. I was actually looking forward to the company, so you could say you’d be doing me a favour if you stayed,” he says. Louis smiles and watches as Styles climbs to his feet, cat still cradled between his arm and his chest. He accepts the hand Styles holds out for him to help him get up and lets Styles pull him to his feet.

“Well, if I’d be doing you a favour I can hardly say no, can I. That’d just be heartless,” he says.

“Perfect,” Styles says. “How does bangers and mash sound?”

“Perfect,” Louis echoes. He can feel his stomach pull tight at the mention of food. That sandwich he’d had on the train to Cardiff hadn’t exactly been the most filling of lunches.

“Great. It’s the only thing I have enough of for two, I think,” Styles says with a cheeky grin. Louis answers it with a good-natured chuckle, throws his jacket onto the loveseat at the end of the room and then trails Styles into the kitchen.

The whole flat is incredibly homey - old, dark wooden floors and wooden door frames, windows that seem a bit smaller than what you’d find in a modern house and that come with wooden shutters. The kitchen ceiling is surprisingly high, though there’s a slant to the ceiling. Louis wonders if it’s always been that way or if someone had sacrificed some attic space for the higher ceiling. It does make the whole room feel bigger than the floor surface would suggest, even with one of those things that have pans and pots and such hanging from them hanging down from the ceiling. There’s an island counter underneath it, while a spot on the wall by the window that looks like it gets the most sun of the room has a hanging rack of fresh green herbs. Everything’s a lot more modern than the rest of the place looks.

“Not just a pastry chef then?” Louis asks, while Styles pulls a basket off a shelf and then a pot off the hanging thing.

“No, I did a regular chef course first,” Styles says, counting out potatoes from the basket into the pot. “After GCSEs. I knew I wanted to cook so there was no point in going to college to get A-levels, since I didn’t plan on going to uni.”

“Not bad,” Louis says. “At sixteen I had no idea what I wanted to do.”

“I’m lucky. I’ve always wanted to cook. Used to bug my mum in the kitchen all the time as a kid. By twelve I was making all the lunches for my sister and I when mum wasn’t home,” Styles says, grinning up at Louis before he carries the pot over to the sink, filling it with water.

Louis perks up at the mention of a sister. That’s something they have in common at least.

“You’ve got a younger sister? I’ve got four. Well, five now, but the youngest didn’t come along until after I’d moved out,” he says.

“Wow!” Styles says, eyes wide as he sets the pot down on the stove. “That’s a lot of sisters.”

“It is,” Louis nods, because there’s really no way to more accurately describe it than ‘a lot of sisters’.

“But, no, my sister’s older than me, actually. By three years,” Styles says.

“And yet you’re the one who cooked lunches?”

“Well, she didn’t like doing it and I loved it,” Styles says, with a grin and a shrug. “She did the washing up, so we had a fair split going.”

“I wish my younger sisters had done the cooking or the washing up. Then again, the next in line was, hang on ... nine when I was fifteen. So it’s probably better she didn’t,” Louis says.

Styles laughs and puts the basket of potatoes back on its shelf.

“So you did the cooking and the washing up?”

“Yeah, whenever I had to watch my sisters. My parents were very good about making sure that wasn’t all the time, though,” Louis says, trying to shrug it off. He’s not sure how small talk turned into a discussion of their teenage family lives so quickly.

“Are you much of a cook then?” Styles asks.

“Nah. I’m okay under supervision but on my own I stick to the, er, basics,” Louis says, feeling his stomach knot itself up in embarrassment the way it tends to when this topic comes up. He’s never taken the time to learn or had any interest in learning. They do enough frozen dishes that aren’t pizza or equally unhealthy things that Louis gets by well enough. He goes out to eat and he eats with Zayn and Perrie. And he’s not even home that much! Yet he always gets a bit defensive over that subject.

“Like spag bol and such?” Styles asks.

“Like beans on toast,” Louis deadpans. “And I’m really good at scrambled eggs.”

He watched the Jamie Oliver tutorial and all.

Styles nods gravely like Louis has spoken some sort of profound truth.

“Scrambled eggs are important. There is an unbelievably large number of people who mess them up,” he says.

Louis rolls his eyes and fights down a smile.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! The chef I apprenticed with always used to say you can tell how good a chef is by how good he is at the simple things. You can use fancy spices and such to impress with most high end cooking, but if you can still impress people with nothing more than eggs, butter and salt then you know what you’re doing,” Styles says. He sounds so earnest, Louis is a bit taken aback. He was mostly just bantering.

“Well, I’m not sure I’ve impressed anyone, but no one’s complained either,” he says.

“That’s practically the same thing. People will not hesitate in letting you know they don’t like your food,” Styles says with a grin. At least as far as Louis’ sisters go - who have been exposed to his cooking more than anyone else on the planet - that’s definitely true. He’s not sure siblings count, though. They generally don’t hesitate to criticise.

“So how long do those need to boil?” Louis asks, nodding his head towards the potatoes. He’s quite looking forward to proper, homemade mashed potatoes. He only ever bothers with the boxed stuff himself.

“Oh, about forty minutes,” Styles says.

And that would be why Louis does the boxed stuff.

“So what do we do for the next forty minutes?” he asks.

“Well, usually I’d look over Wobblebelly’s books for the day and such, but we could... play a game? I’ve got UNO lying around somewhere,” Styles suggests.

“Oh, no, don’t let me keep you from your work. I won’t get in your way,” Louis says.

Styles regards him for a moment.

“Are you sure? It’s not exactly interesting, watching me sort receipts and suchlike,” he says.

“No, no, of course. It’s alright. I didn’t mean to interrupt your routine,” Louis says, smiling to show he means it. He can play with the cat if he gets bored. Or he can ask for Styles’ wifi password and find out who the section head at the local PAMC is and inform them he’ll be swinging by tomorrow to bring them up to speed on the situation. They’ll probably want him to bring the egg in, so it can hatch in a more controlled environment.

Louis suppresses a sigh. He’s not looking forward to having to tell Styles he’ll have to give his egg up. Styles seems like the type to take it to heart. Louis half hopes that whatever comes out of that egg is not a dragon, so Styles won’t be as disappointed.

“Alright then. I’ll just go down to fetch my things,” Styles says.

“Um,” Louis says, slightly alarmed, his eyes flitting back and forth between the potatoes boiling on the stove and Styles. He’s not going to leave him alone with that, right?

Styles grins.

“It’s the second knob from the left. If it does anything funny, just turn it off and come get me. I won’t be more than five minutes though,” he says.

Louis squares his shoulders and tries not to feel nervous.

“Okay. Just don’t blame me if my presence somehow messes with your potatoes.”

“I doubt you can influence the boiling process of potatoes with your mere _presence_ ,” Styles laughs and then turns around to leave the kitchen. Louis listens to his footsteps creak down the stairs until the cat trots into the kitchen, tail raised high. Is the cat allowed in here? Probably. Styles would’ve mentioned if it weren’t, probably.

To be on the safe side, Louis bends down and scoops it up. There’s nowhere to sit or anything, but he also doesn’t want to leave the potatoes to themselves now that he’s semi-officially been left in charge of them.

“What am I doing, Toothless, huh? Do you know?” Louis asks the cat, feeling only about fifty percent ridiculous and scritches it under its chin. The cat purrs and pushes its face against Louis’ fingers.

There’s nothing in the rulebook against befriending clients and there’s nothing about petting Styles’ kitten that’s not friendly, but Louis’s not generally the type to let other people cook for him a mere twenty minutes after first having met them. Maybe he should have waited and let Styles take him out to a pub or something. It would’ve put them on even footing and there’s nothing strange about going for a meal with a business associate after all.

But now he’s here in Styles’ kitchen and this all feels a bit too close for the perfunctory relationship they’ll have. If Abergavenny want the egg, Louis’ll be out of here by tomorrow night, probably. Even if not he’ll be gone in two weeks tops, when whatever it is has hatched and been handed over to the appropriate people. No need to cuddle Styles’ cat, really.

But Toothless is warm and its fur is soft, so Louis buries his face in it for just a moment. Much as he loves dragons, they’re not very good cuddlers.

“I see you’ve warmed to Toothless. Knew he’d win you over,” Styles says then, startling Louis into a flinch. He’d pull his face out of the cat if it didn’t currently feel like it’s on fire.

“He’s very cuddly,” Louis says instead of dignifying Styles’ statement with a direct response.

“That he is,” Styles says, nodding. He spreads the folder and papers he’s got tucked underneath his arm out on the island counter and Louis just sort of... leans against the opposite side and watches him sort through them.

“Do you do your own books then?” Louis asks, for lack of anything better to say. Admittedly, he’s also just a bit curious. He doesn’t know how old Styles is yet, but owning his own bakery, even if he did his regular chef’s degree between sixteen and nineteen, looking as young as he does is a bit impressive.

“Nah, a mate of mine does the accounting. He works in the shop as well,” Styles explains.

Louis hums in acknowledgement and they fall silent for a bit, the only noise being the shuffling of Styles’ papers and Toothless’ purr. Louis never knew how loud a cat’s purr sounds in a quiet room. There wasn’t much quiet around as Louis was growing up - and they’ve never had a cat either.

“So when did you know you wanted to do... this?” Styles asks, looking up briefly and gesturing vaguely at all of Louis.

“Second year of uni,” Louis says.

Styles looks up, seeming surprised, or at least interested.

“Really? What were you studying?”

“Magizoology, luckily. I knew I wanted to do something with dragons or other magical critters, but I didn’t want to be a magivet, so zoology it was. I got a summer job at PAMC, just office stuff, between my first and second year, but I found out that you could do this, the field agent stuff. So I finished my degree and... did that,” Louis says.

He got lucky, he knows that. A lot of his classmates from uni struggled quite a bit to find work in the field they wanted. It helped, probably, that Louis had been interning at PAMC ever since that summer so he got glowing recommendations by the time it came to him sending out applications. His old boss from uni put in a good word with him down in London and off Louis went.

“That’s great that you found something you like doing,” Styles smiles.

“Yep. Even though my sisters are constantly disappointed that I don’t try harder to get assigned the unicorn cases. They just don’t understand why I’d prefer dragons.”

“Well, unicorns are certainly prettier,” Styles teases.

“You take that back! Dragons are gorgeous, majestic creatures,” Louis insists, half in play, half because he really, _really_ loves those beasts.

Styles laughs.

“Of course they are, but that doesn’t mean they’re _pretty_ , does it?” he insists, grin sharp like Louis isn’t going to win this, no matter how much he argues. Louis can’t help but grin back. He likes a bit of a challenge and he likes when someone knows they’ve won almost as much as when he knows he’s won.

“Now you’re just splitting hairs,” Louis says, unwilling to hand the last word over without at least a little resistance.

“You say split hair, I say valid distinction,” Styles says, still shuffling receipts. Louis rolls his eyes even though Styles can’t see it, bent over his work as he is.

Toothless is starting to wriggle in his arms, so Louis sets him down onto the floor, watching him trot back out of the kitchen, probably in search of alternative entertainment. Who knows with cats. They’re even harder to predict than dragons are.

“You can go explore as well, if you want,” Styles says. “This isn’t exactly the most fascinating thing to do, nevermind watch.”

“What are you saying? This is riveting,” Louis says, but his voice drips with sarcasm so heavily that it startles a bark of laughter out of Styles. Louis grins to himself.

“No, but, really, you don’t have to stand around here,” Styles says. Maybe it’s that Louis’s making him uncomfortable. _He’s_ certainly not a fan of people hovering by his desk when he’s trying to get something done.

“You sure? I won’t find any skeletons in your closets?” Louis teases.

“Of course not,” Styles scoffs. “I keep them in the pantry downstairs.”

“Oh, yes, of course. How silly of me.”

“Seems an awful waste, with the price of meat what it is - when you get it. If you get it,” Styles sings lowly in response, looking up at Louis from underneath his eyelashes.

Louis does not get it, though the back of his mind is tingling like he should.

“Sweeney Todd,” Styles says after a moment has passed.

“Oh, gross,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Is that the thing with the _meat pies_?”

“The very one,” Styles confirms with a grin like he was aiming for that grimace on Louis’ face.

“We went to see that in sixth form. They sold meat pies during the intermission. A mate of mine thought it was hilarious. Ate two,” Louis says, remembering the way Hannah had giggled when she’d gobbled them up, licking her fingers like they were the most delicious pies she’d ever had. Even just the memory makes Louis feel a little queasy.

“Oh, did you have to bring that up before dinner?” Louis complains.

Styles grins unrepentantly.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding not sorry at all.

“Just for that I’m going to go snoop through your bedroom,” Louis threatens and backs out of the kitchen.

“Just avoid the downstairs pantry!” Styles calls after him, making Louis give a fully body shudder, now that Styles can’t see him.

Louis doesn’t snoop through Styles’ bedroom of course, but he finds a bookshelf in the room with the fireplace that holds the egg with the complete Discworld series by Terry Pratchett, as well as few others by him. That is definitely something Louis can respect. He grabs one of the Discworld series at random and opens it up to a random passage, before flipping to the first page and sitting down on the loveseat.

He’s still reading by the time Styles comes to find him to tell him that dinner’s served.

The sausages are grilled to perfection, the gravy just heavy enough to make Louis want to lick his plate clean and the mashed potatoes are softer and creamier than Louis remembers ever having had. The secret ingredient, Styles says with a mischievous wink, is cauliflower. Louis groans and drops his face into his hands, just glad he’s already eaten.

Louis checks on the egg once more before he leaves and then Styles walks him to the door - the one that leads out the back, not through the shop.

“I’ll come by again tomorrow morning,” Louis says. “But if anything happens over night, please do call me.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Styles says, in what he probably thinks is a soothing tone. All it does is make Louis want to lecture him about all the things that could very well happen, starting with a baby dragon hatching and ending with Styles being strangled in his sleep.

Styles must catch on to it, because he lifts both hands in a surrender kind of gesture.

“But if anything does, I’ll call you the second I notice.”

Louis nods grimly, trying not to chew on his lip. He can’t very well invite himself to stay over. And probably nothing _is_ going to happen. The laying-film has only recently dried up, he reminds himself.

“Alright,” he says.

“I open at nine and I have morning prep to do, but Niall should be here from seven tomorrow,” Styles says, with a grin that says he knows Louis is going to be stood on his shop’s doorstep at seven on the dot.

Louis nods and takes a step back.

“Thank you again for dinner,” he says.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for your company,” Styles says, smile sweet.

Louis smiles back.

“Goodnight,” Styles says, taking a step back from the door.

“Goodnight,” Louis repeats and turns around. He can hear the door click shut behind him and then the sound of a key being turned once, twice. The night is brisk, but the five minute walk back to the inn not long enough to chill him. It’s not that late yet, but the day catches up with him as he’s brushing his teeth in the small en suite bathroom of his room, making him yawn and all of his limbs feel terribly heavy all of a sudden. Travelling always seems to stretch the day - it seems so hard to believe that just this morning he woke up in his flat in London and he only got on the train to Wales less than twelve hours ago.

Louis turns up the volume of his ringtone, sets an alarm for six-thirty and then crawls underneath the covers. He falls asleep faster than he thought he would.

* * *

At five minutes to seven Louis finds himself in front of Wobblebelly’s door, the sign still flipped to ‘Sorry, we’re closed’ and the shop seemingly empty. Maybe he should just... walk up and down the street for five minutes. Louis has only seen two people on the streets so far. Granted, it’s early, but being used to London, it’s still something that Louis can’t help but notice.

He’s about to turn away from the shop and just take a little stroll, when a blond guy in a dark green apron comes out from the almost-definitely-kitchen and spots him through the glass. Niall, Louis guesses. He grins and waves at Louis, so Louis puts a smile on his face and waves back. The bloke makes for the door, opening it and sticking his head out, grin still wide and open. Either what they say about countryside towns is true and everyone here is freakishly friendly, or Louis has just found two of the smiliest people.

“Hi there. Are you the dragon bloke?” blondie asks. He’s Irish. Huh. Louis can’t help but wonder how an Irish lad ends up in a tiny town in Wales.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Louis says and then steps closer and holds out a hand for Irish to shake. “Louis.”

“Niall,” Irish says, shaking Louis’ hand firmly. “I work with H.”

Louis nods and wonders what the politest way to ask Niall to step aside is. He’s blocking the entrance.

“Oh!” Niall says, as he seems to notice the same thing, and steps back into the shop, dropping Louis’ hand. “Come in, come in. H said you’d be by early.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, climbing the two steps into the shop and pulling the door shut behind himself. The glass case on the counter is filled with all sorts of golden brown pastries and multi-coloured cakes and the scent of baked goods hangs heavy in the air. Louis has had breakfast no thirty minutes ago, but he can feel his mouth grow wet from the delicious aromas hanging in the air.

“Harry’s just finishing up the early morning prep back in the kitchen. You can pop in and say hello if you want,” Niall says, gesturing towards the door behind the counter.

Louis is a bit curious about what a bakery kitchen looks like. And it’d be the polite thing to do to inform Styles that he’ll be checking on the egg, instead of just invading his living space.

“Alright,” Louis says and shuffles his way behind the counter awkwardly, Niall - for some reason - on his heels.

Louis knocks on the door before opening it, although judging by how it’s suddenly a lot noisier having opened it, Louis guesses it cancels noise at least a bit.

“Er, good morning,” Louis says. He should probably not walk in with his regular clothes and shoes. That’s got to be some sort of health code violation, right?

Styles doesn’t react, bent over the counter surface with his back to the door, piping something onto a tray.

“Oi, Harry,” Niall says - far more loudly - from over Louis’ shoulder.

Styles whirls around, batter dripping from the piping bag for a moment before he rights it.

“Fuck’s sake, Niall -” Styles starts, but breaks off when he looks up and sees Louis standing there. “Oh. Hi, Louis. Is it seven already?”

“Uh, yeah, just about,” Louis said. “I just wanted to say ‘hi’. Is it alright if I go up to check on the egg?”

“Sure, sure,” Styles says, laugh in his voice. “You sure do take that seriously.”

Of course Louis takes it _seriously_. It’s his _job_. Not to mention the safety of quite a few people could theoretically still depend on that egg not hatching while unattended. On that note...

“Actually, I was also going to ask you if I could borrow your wi-fi? There isn’t any at the inn and I need to get in touch with a few people...” Louis says.

Styles nods before Louis is even all the way done with the question.

“Of course, of course,” he says and then pulls a piece of paper off a magnetic notepad clinging to some kitchen appliance and grabs a pen from his pocket.

“These are the network name and password. Just don’t go showing it around, please, it’s my private network,” Styles says.

“Of course,” Louis assures him and takes the offered piece of paper with a smile. Styles smiles back. He really _is_ quite tall. It’s easier to ignore with a kitchen island between them or sitting down for dinner, but stood in front of him like that, Louis can’t help but notice the slight tilt to his chin so he can maintain eye contact.

“I’ll just be upstairs then for a bit?” Louis says, unsure why it comes out like a question. He’s already gotten permission, hasn’t he?

“Alright. You know where I’ll be if you need anything. Help yourself to something to drink from the kitchen, if you want,” Styles says and gestures past Louis to the counter. “Or the chocolate croissants are fresh, if you fancy one.”

“Thanks,” Louis says. The scent that hangs in the air is amazing - butter and vanilla, a bit of citrus, a bit of chocolate, a bit of cinnamon, even. Lots of things that Louis can’t place beyond the general aroma of baking. It’s equally as inviting and hospitable as Styles’ smile.

Louis curls his toes inside his shoes and resists the urge to fidget with his clothes or bite his lip.

“Some other time,” he says and then turns to leave the kitchen, giving Niall a short smile.

He makes sure to open the door up to Styles’ living space carefully so as to be able to catch Toothless, should he be lying in wait behind the door. The cat is nowhere to be seen though, and so Louis climbs up the old wooden stairs, while Niall cackles at something in the shop. Louis lips twitch a bit in a not-quite-smile.

“Alright then,” Louis says as he kneels in front of the fireplace and sets aside the fireguard. “How are we today?”

The egg is exactly where Louis left it last night, only the embers around it have been rekindled so they won’t go out over the course of the day, or at least the next few hours until someone comes to check on them. The eggshell has hardened a bit more, the way dragon eggs do after the laying film dries up and they are more exposed to the mother dragon’s heat. Without the added moisture seeping in through the until then porous egg, the baby dragon needs a way to protect itself from dehydration and overheating. So the shell closes and hardens while the dragon does its last bit of growing. Usually it’s only a week or two until the hatching, once the film has dried up.

It’s promising, at least, that the signs are so far congruent with a dragon’s development.

Louis settles down in front of the fireplace and pulls his tablet out of his bag, connecting it to Styles’ network. There’s an email from Ben asking for a preliminary assessment of the situation and telling him to cc Abergavenny. Louis rolls his eyes. The way Ben acts you’d think Louis hasn’t done this countless times before. He types the email to Ben out quickly enough, sending it off with only a cursory glance for typos. He’ll send the official report after he’s talked to the people in Abergavenny. Since Zayn said they’ve been notified of his visit he figures if he just calls he’ll be redirected to the appropriate station sooner or later.

The phone rings only twice before someone picks up.

“Protection Agency of Magical Creatures, Abergavenny branch, Josh speaking - how may I help?” the bloke at the other end of the line says.

“Yeah, hi. My name’s Louis Tomlinson, I’m from the London office,” Louis says.

“Right. About the possible find in Llandovery, right?” Josh asks, cutting Louis off before he can explain. Louis raises his eyebrows at noone. Good organisation in that office.

“Er, yeah, that’s me,” he says.

“Right. I’ll patch you right through to Mr. Payne, he’s the one dealing with your case,” Josh says.

“Liam Payne?” Louis asks. Josh seems a bit startled when he answers.

“Yes, sir. Is there a ... problem?”

“No, no, absolutely not. Payne and I have worked together before,” Louis explains. He really should work on sounding less brusque, probably. It might make misunderstandings such as this one less frequent.

“Ah,” Josh says and then haltingly adds, “have a good day, sir.”

Louis grimaces to himself a bit. He didn’t mean to through the lad off. He listens to the jingle on the line for a bit before Payne picks up.

“Liam Payne?”

“Mr. Payne, good morning,” Louis says, as jovially as he can. “This is Louis Tomlinson from down in London.”

“Tomlinson! Have you made it safely to Llandovery?”

“I have indeed. It seems the egg is definitely real as well, though I can still not definitively determine the species,” Louis says, biting his lip after. It feels a bit like having to confess to not having done his homework every time he says it.

Payne hums and haws for a moment.

“Do you want me to bring it in?” Louis asks.

“Do you have a preliminary assessment?” Payne asks back.

“Yes, of course,” Louis says. “I can email it to you right now.”

“Perfect,” Payne replies and then there are a few moments of silence where Louis one-handedly types Liam Payne’s company email address into the address bar and then listens to the clicking of Liam’s desktop mouse when he receives the email. There’s more humming and hawing.

“It does look dragon in the photo,” Payne says.

“It does,” Louis agrees. “If it is it’s either new, hybrid, or really fucking unusual though.”

Payne chuckles down the line.

“Almost forgot your charming way with words,” he says. Louis grins to himself.

“Nah, you didn’t.”

“Be that as it may,” Payne says and Louis can hear the grin in his voice as well. Payne and he got off to a bit of a rocky start when Louis came down to help Abergavenny out the last time but by the end of Louis’ stint they got on like a house on fire. Louis’s glad he’ll be Louis’ contact at Abergavenny branch.

“We don’t have the incubator space to take it right now,” Payne says then, sounding truly conflicted. Louis has been half expecting it though. An unknown like this one needs an incubator of its own and most will already be double-booked. You can have two of the same species hatching in one, but you can’t introduce such a variable to the mix.

“D’you want me to take it back to London, then?” Louis asks. Styles shouts something downstairs and Niall cackles.

Payne exhales a long breath.

“What’s your assessment?” he asks.

“I just-”

“No, not the official one. What does the Tommo gut say about it?” Payne asks.

Louis heaves a sigh to rival Payne’s and rakes a hand through his hair.

“I think it’s a dragon, to be honest. It’s so unlikely that this bloke just found it lying around but the egg pattern doesn’t properly fit the Jaculus or the Cerastes either and it looks more dragon than anything else,” Louis says.

Payne hums his agreement.

“I’m with you on that one, judging by the photos. The Jaculus eggs are far smaller usually, for one. We should be hoping this isn’t a freakishly large version.”

Louis snorts but grimaces at the thought at the same time. Monster-sized monsters are the last thing he needs right now.

“D’you think you can hatch it?” Payne asks.

Louis worries his bottom lip for a moment.

“I don’t have any gear with me,” he says then.

“We’ll provide what we can, of course,” Payne says. “We have enough field births, we’re just short on incubators right now and two men down on staff.”

Louis licks his lips and stares at the egg, considering it for a few moments.

“Yeah, alright,” he says then. “I can do it.”

“You’re alright with staying?” Payne asks, like it’s only just occurred to him or he wants to make sure Louis isn’t terribly put out by it.

“Aw, Payno, you want to keep me around?” Louis teases, prompting an amused snort from Payne.

“Yep. That’s been my plan all along. I planted the egg for someone to find and then tipped the London office off,” he says.

Louis can’t help but laugh at the idea.

“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” he says.

“Are you alright to come pick the stuff up? Or should I send someone over?” Payne asks then, changing the topic.

“No, that’s alright, I can come get them. I’ve got a rental and nothing but time, really,” Louis says.

“No action from the egg yet?” Payne asks.

“Still as a fossil,” Louis says.

“Great. I’ll get it prepped for you, but it’ll probably have to wait until after lunch.”

“Shall we say around three?”

“Perfect,” Payne says. “See you then, Tomlinson.”

“See you, Payne,” Louis says and lowers his phone, tapping the screen to hang up the call. Staring down at the clock on the screen he realises it’s only a bit after eight and he has nothing to do, technically, that’s not watching the egg not move in the fireplace and later on drive over to Abergavenny.

He should let Styles know what he decided to do with the egg, in Styles’ own home, but he thinks it’ll probably be better to let him get done with his morning prep first. After a few moments of alternately staring at the egg and his tablet, trying to come up with a way to entertain himself for the next hour that isn’t youtube, he remembers the book he leafed through last night. He replaces the fireguard, gets up to get the book and curls back up on the loveseat. Even only having done it once before it feels almost familiar. Remarkable, really, how quick the brain is to get used to things.

Louis gets sucked into the book a bit, not looking up except to glance at the egg every now and then. When he does get up properly, making for the stairs to go down and talk to Styles, the volume level downstairs has reached a steady sort of hum. The shop must have opened, then. And it seems to be doing quite well of a morning too. Maybe he should wait a bit more to speak to Styles. He doesn’t want to interrupt the morning rush, after all. They’ll be plenty busy downstairs. And it’d look a bit strange, wouldn’t it, some bloke coming down from Styles’ flat in the morning. He wouldn’t want to cause Styles any embarrassment or anything. In a town this small news probably spreads really fast. It’s that kind of ‘everyone knows everyone’ thing that makes for intense gossip.

So, yeah. He’ll wait. He doesn’t have to leave for Abergavenny until after lunch anyway. Louis closes the door to Styles’ flat at the top of the stairs again and settles back down onto the loveseat by the egg fireplace.

When Louis is startled out of reading by the door to the flat opening, he’s halfway through the book, which must mean that a significant amount of time has passed. Christ. He didn’t mean to stay here quite that long.

“Oh, so you _are_ still here,” Styles says, standing on the other side of the room by the hallway. He’s got a plate with what seems to be two croissants in one hand, the other one pushed casually into the pocket of his trousers.

Louis sits up straighter and shuts the book, feeling his cheeks warm a bit.

“Yeah,” he says and smiles apologetically. “I needed to speak with you but it seemed quite busy earlier and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“That’s alright, I don’t mind,” Styles says and crosses the room to come sit on the loveseat by Louis. “What did you need to speak to me about?”

“The egg. I called PAMC in Abergavenny and they asked me to hatch it here. They’ve no incubators available but would like to keep it close,” Louis says.

Styles nods along, eyes bright and attentive and waiting for Louis to go on.

“Would that be alright for you? We’d have to keep the egg here, as there’s nowhere to keep it at the inn, but-”

“I was going to do that anyway,” Styles points out. “I wouldn’t have kept it warm and all if I didn’t want it to hatch, would I?”

“Well, yes, but now you know it might not be a dragon,” Louis says. He’d find it perfectly understandable if Styles has reservations about hatching something potentially deadly in his living room. Reasonable, even.

“But it also might,” Styles says, grin pulling at his lips.

“Emphasis on might,” Louis says. Styles doesn’t seem to be as bothered by ‘potentially deadly’ as Louis assumes is the human average.

“I think that means something different to you than it does me,” Styles says with a smile and then holds up the plate. “Croissant?”

Louis looks down at the plate - the croissants look golden brown and perfectly fluffy - before looking back up at Styles.

“Abergavenny are providing me with a few things to help with the hatching, I’ll be picking them up later in the afternoon,” Louis says instead.

Styles shrugs as if to say ‘suit yourself’ and breaks off the end of one of the croissant. It practically oozes dark chocolate. Louis’ mouth goes wet at the sight and smell of it.

“Anyway, it’s alright with me,” Styles says then. “I know you’re just trying to help, so I’m not going to, like, turn you away or anything.”

“Thank you,” Louis says. It’s always so much more of a hassle when Louis has to get the police involved for everyone’s safety’s sake. Louis much prefers resolving these things like civilised adults. Styles chews and nods and swallows before smiling at Louis again.

“I’m going for a nap now, but I’ll be up again in the afternoon if you want to come back to set up... whatever it is you need to set up,” he says.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Louis says.

“No problem, really,” Styles says and stands. “If I’m not in the shop when you come back, just ask Niall to get me. Or call, if it’s after closing time.”

“Will do,” Louis says and stands as well, putting the book back onto the shelf before stretching a hand out for Styles to shake.

“See you later tonight then, Louis,” Styles says and Louis almost startles at the use of his name, before smiling back.

“Later tonight,” he confirms.

* * *

It’s a quarter to three when Louis shows up at the PAMC branch in Abergavenny. Being that it’s not just offices and the research in the basement that Louis tends to forget about, it looks quite a bit different than the London site. There’s a dirt track leading up to a gate into the Habitat and a long one storey building that Louis knows houses all the incubators and vet stations and such. The little house adjacent to it is for the handful of offices they need.

Louis parks the rental car and takes a big gulp of air when he steps out of it. He’s not generally one of those people who can’t stand to be in cities, but there’s something about the having wide open landscape so close that always makes him feel a little more settled and a little more energetic at once.

He strolls into the office building and up to the reception desk with a smile on his face that doesn’t feel only like politeness.

“Hello, sir,” he’s greeted by the lad behind it. “Can I help?”

The name plate on the desk identifies him as Josh, the lad that had patched Louis through to Payne earlier when he’d called.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Louis Tomlinson. I’m here to see Liam Payne, but I’m a bit early,” Louis says.

“That’s alright, I’ll just call and see if he’s ready for you,” Josh says and then picks up his phone, punching in a few numbers all the while smiling pleasantly at Louis. It’s a vastly different experience from the surly old lady who mans reception in the lobby in London. Or Zayn, who technically does something like reception up on their floor. But then, all Zayn has to do is breathe in someone’s general direction to get them all spellbound, so Louis can relate. If he had that kind of effect on people he’d give up on a few social conventions as well. Really, they’re lucky Zayn’s too lazy to ever use his super power for evil.

“Hi, Liam, I’ve got a Mr. Tomlinson here- right. See you in a bit,” Josh says and then hangs up.

“He’ll be right out to come get you,” he informs Louis.

“Thanks,” Louis says.

“So did you really find a dragon egg?” Josh asks, tapping his pen against the table. Louis looks down at it and then him before answering.

“Well, not me, no,” Louis says. He’s not sure what kind of information on this case he’s allowed to spread - sometimes the higher ups prefer keeping the potentially dangerous ones as contained as possible - so he leaves it at that.

Josh rolls his eyes.

“When’s it hatching?” he asks next.

“Would that I could tell,” Louis grins, prompting Josh to laugh.

“Soon though, I think. It’s been dry for a while now,” he adds. He’ll have to ask Styles if he noticed the film going. He can't be sure when between the last two photos he’d instagrammed it had started drying up.

“So you’re sure it’s a dragon?” Josh asks.

“Eh,” Louis says, making a face. Josh’s eyes go a bit wider.

“Wow. Good luck with that,” he says. Louis snorts his amusement.

“Thanks,” he says dryly. “Can’t wait.”

He really can’t.

“Tommo!” he hears behind him then and turns around to find Payne striding across the room towards him.

“Payne,” he greets back just as jovially, accepting the hug-pat-on-the-back Payne pulls him into when he reaches him.

“How’ve you been, mate?” Louis asks before Payne can.

“Same old, same old,” Payne says, nodding at Josh and then slinging an arm around Louis’ shoulders like they’re old friends to lead him away. Louis can roll with this.

“How’s... Danielle, was it?”

“Oh, er. We’ve split up,” Payne says, pulling a bit of an awkward grimace.

“Shit, sorry, mate,” Louis says. One of the major things he remembers from working with Payne was that given even half a chance he’d chew your ear off about his girlfriend.

“Nah, ‘s alright. It’s been a while. I’m seeing someone else now,” Payne says. Judging by the happy grin on his face it really is alright with him.

“Yeah? She treating you right?” Louis asks, poking him in the side teasingly. Payne laughs.

“Got me wrapped around her finger,” he says. Louis nods.

“All good then.”

“Yeah, I’m all good. How about you, Tommo? Haven’t seen you in a while,” Payne says.

“Been up in Inverness lots,” Louis says. “Just came back from a thing down in France. They suddenly had a dragon in Calais no one could account for so they thought it might’ve crossed the Channel. Wouldn’t be the first one.”

“Shit, really?” Payne asks. “Did it?”

“Nah. Came from bloody Belgium in the end,” Louis says. “There were a bunch of us there trying to figure out who was missing a dragon, even a bloke from Germany and a girl from the Netherlands.”

“You’d think someone would notice a missing dragon,” Payne comments, letting go of Louis to punch a number code into a door lock and then hold the door open for Louis.

“You’d think. He was hurt and in a supremely unlucky turn of events he’d lost his chip,” Louis says, reaching up to rub at his forehead.

“What was he?” Payne asks, leading Louis down a corridor lined with labs and rooms of incubators.

“Venomous Grassland Hopper,” Louis says, catching Payne’s eye and grimacing at him. Payne mirrors his expression.

“Yikes. Sounds fun,” Payne says, holding another door open for Louis. Louis should maybe have paid more attention to where they were going.

“Super fun,” Louis says.

The light comes on as they step into the room. There’s a cardboard box set out on a table that Payne reaches for.

“Okay, we’ve got a stunner for you, a venom first aid kit and a regular first aid kit, a cage, of course, a stethoscope, a hatching kit and some food,” he lists, letting Louis rummage through the box. “Try not to need too many of them.”

Louis grins up at him.

“I’ll do my best,” he says. Payne rolls his eyes with a half-smirk and Louis can’t help but laugh, knowing that Payne actually knows what tends to happen when Louis tries his best.

“Don’t worry, Payno, I’ll take good care of the egg,” he says.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Payne says, but turns to hold the door open for Louis again.

“I know, I know. No need to get your knickers in a twist. No harm shall befall anyone,” Louis says.

“Great,” Payne says. “I’d love to have a bit of a chat, but I’ve a thing to deal with at the clinic...”

“Sure, sure. I’ll be out of your hair,” Louis says. This would be why Louis isn’t angling for any of the desk jobs. He really doesn’t fancy having to deal with ‘a thing at the clinic’.

“Keep me updated,” Payne says, holding the door to the lobby open for Louis as well. Louis rolls his eyes.

“I’ll do my job, yes,” he says.

Payne sighs at him like he’s already sick of his face, but claps him on the shoulder with a grin.

“Have fun,” he says. Louis grins at him. He forgets sometimes that there are people who know him well enough to say things like that instead of ‘so have you been giving any more thought to staying in London permanently?’.

“I will,” Louis says and waggles his eyebrows before awkwardly waving at Josh at the reception desk while balancing the cardboard box of supplies against his belly. Josh waves back while Payne holds open the entrance door for Louis.

“Drive safe,” Payne adds.

“Always,” Louis throws over his shoulder, not turning back to see Payne’s eyeroll. The door falls shut behind him and Louis fumbles for the car key for a moment before stashing the box on the back seat. It was, all in all, a far quicker visit than he thought, but that’s not altogether a bad thing. At least he won’t have to bother Styles until late in the evening again.

* * *

It’s four thirty-seven when Louis is back at Wobblebelly. Niall seems to have gone home, but Styles is behind the counter, out of his chef’s uniform and in a dark green apron like the one Niall had been wearing in the morning. Styles catches his eye through the shop window and gestures towards the side, to the door leading up to Styles’ flat. Louis nods at him and rounds the building with his cardboard box, waiting for Styles to let him in at the back door.

“I close at five. Will you be alright on your own?” Styles asks instead of a greeting.

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says, hurrying inside. “Go, go.”

Styles smiles at him thankfully and vanishes back out into the shop, while Louis climbs up the stairs to Styles’ flat, smiling and shaking his head to himself.

There’s really not much for Louis to set up. He takes out the stethoscope and presses it to the eggshell, listens to the very, very faint beat of a small heart for a bit before he leans away again and then fits the cage over the egg. It’s a precaution more than anything. In case the egg hatches at night or whatever hatches from it does turn out to be deadly. Then he sorts through the rest of the supplies and parks the box next to the bookshelf.

It’s four fifty-two when he gets up from the floor. He’ll just wait the few minutes until Styles closes up to explain what he brought over then. There’s no need to bother him in the shop for these next eight minutes, he decides. So Louis picks the book back up and sits down on the loveseat again. He has only just found his spot on the page when the soft pitter-patter of paws makes him look up. Toothless trots up to him and jumps up onto the loveseat to curl up on his lap, purring, like he’s does it all the time. Louis smiles and runs his hand through Toothless’ silky fur three, four, five times before he leans back, brings up his book and goes on reading.

“Don’t you two look cosy,” Styles says, just as Louis is turning a page. Louis startles, flinches and Toothless stares up at him reprehensively before jumping off his lap and trotting over to Styles, rubbing against his calves.

“Sorry, I just thought I’d tell you what I’ve brought into your home,” Louis tries to joke. Styles chuckles, so Louis considers it a success.

“Alright then. What have you brought me?” Styles asks, walking over to the cardboard box. Louis puts the book down and takes the few steps until he can kneel down next to him. He ends up just a smidgen too far inside Styles’ personal space bubble, but Styles smiles at him and he radiates a comfortable warmth, so Louis brushes it off and turns towards the box.

“Standard first aid kit and anti-venom kit,” he says, pointing them out. Styles nods along.

“Stunner,” Louis says, picking that one up to show Styles how to use it. When he looks up Styles is staring at him with wide eyes.

“Just for emergencies,” Louis says. “Most of this is just on an ‘in case’ basis.”

“Gotta be prepared,” Styles agrees with a wry smile. It seems it’s starting to sink in what kind of a mess he could’ve got himself into with this whole ‘picking up suspicious eggs in the wilderness and not reporting them to the relevant authorities’ business.

“Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you to do this on your own. You’ll have quite a hard time getting rid of me,” Louis grins and bumps his shoulder against Styles’.

Styles grins back.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Anyway. This carries quite a high voltage - one you definitely don’t want to use on a person. It won’t kill a healthy adult, but definitely keep it away from children and the elderly,” Louis says. Styles nods, face a lot more serious now.

“Okay. It’s really easy to use. You just aim and press this button here at the side,” Louis explains.

“So it’s like a tazer?” Styles asks, taking it from Louis’ hands gently, wrapping his own around it as if to test the way it lies in his hand. It looks a lot more like a toy in Styles’ hand than it did in Louis’. Ah, well, his dainty little hands are good for all sorts of delicate fiddling.

“Yeah, pretty much like that,” Louis says.

Styles gently puts it back into the box.

“Alright. What else is there?” he asks.

“Well, there’s food which should suit pretty much anything that can potentially come out of that egg and there’s the cage that I’ve already put around the egg,” Louis says, gesturing towards the fireplace. "And a hatching kit, of course."

“You’re caging the _egg_?” Styles asks, clearly amused.

“Unless you plan on holding an all night vigil so it can’t escape as soon as it hatches, yeah. I’m caging the egg,” Louis says, tamping down on the urge to roll his eyes.

“Do you think it’ll hatch this night?” Styles asks, seeming both a little confused and a lot excited.

“No, probably not,” Louis says, grinning at Styles’ excitement. “It’s not yet moving around or anything. I just meant in case it hatches during the night. Whichever one it may be.”

“Oh. That’s clever,” Styles says with a smile like Louis’s the first one to come up with that idea.

“Thank you,” Louis says and then gets up from his place on the floor. “Well, you’re all set for the night.”

“Oh. Um. Did you want to stay for dinner again?” Styles asks, getting up himself.

Louis feels his face slacken in surprise. He assumed last night was merely out of convenience and maybe because Styles had felt compelled to keep to his offer of dinner. Not that Louis didn’t enjoy his company, he just didn’t think he’d be invited back.

“You don’t have to... I can just grab whatever they have at the inn,” Louis says.

Styles scrunches up his nose in a move that Louis can’t call anything but intensely adorable. It seems like his entire face moves with it.

“You don’t want to do that,” he says.

“Well, they’re no gourmet chefs...” Louis teases. Styles waggles his eyebrows at him in answer.

“Niall usually eats with me, so I’d really be glad for the company,” Styles says. “But of course if you’d rather go back to the inn...”

Louis’s not sure if Styles is teasing him right back or actually just wants to let Louis know he’s under no obligation to accept his invitation to dinner. Probably a bit of both.

“Well, what’s on the menu for tonight?” Louis asks.

“Salmon, green beans and garlic bread,” Styles says. “Probably.”

“Probably?” Louis asks.

“Well, sometimes by the time I get to the kitchen I change my mind,” Styles explains. “Are you allergic to anything?”

When exactly was it decided that Louis would stay for dinner?

“No, no allergies,” he says.

“Great. So you’re staying?” Styles asks, a smirk lurking in the corner of his mouth like Louis has already said yes and he knew it all along.

Louis sort of wants to say ‘no’ just to be contrary.

“Yeah, if you’ll have me.”

“I did ask you to stay,” Styles points out. “But I do need to finish up some things downstairs, though.”

“Of course,” Louis says.

“You’re welcome to read,” Styles grins. Louis chuckles but shakes his head.

“I need to get back to the inn for a few things,” Louis says. Most notably a shower, maybe a change of clothes and to find out for how many nights Zayn had booked the room.

“Alright. Well, I’ll probably be another hour and a half...” Styles says, trailing off.

“That works well for me,” Louis says, straightening out the hem of his jumper before he catches himself at it and holds his hands still.

“I’ll see you back here later then,” Styles says and makes for the door. Louis nods and goes to follow him. Styles realises a moment later that they still both have to walk down that stairs and they could’ve had this entire strangely awkwards goodbye spiel by the door, where at least they could’ve run from each other. When they reach the bottom of the stairs Styles unlocks the back door and then turns around to Louis and pulls a cross-eyed grimace at him. Louis startles into a chuckle and Styles winks at him, stepping aside to let Louis step out into the back yard.

“See you in a bit then,” Louis says.

“In a bit,” Styles agrees, turning away while the door falls shut between them.

Christ. What the hell was that then?

* * *

By the time Louis makes it back he has spent far too much time and energy on picking an outfit that would leave him neither under nor overdressed. He doesn’t even know why he’s giving this so much thought, other than that moment before they’d parted ways earlier had left him a bit weirded out and shaken up.

“Hi,” Styles beams at him as he opens the door. He’s dressed in a thin-looking jumper and skinny jeans - similar to how he was dressed yesterday and similar to how Louis is dressed himself. Good.

“Hi,” Louis replies, following him back up the stairs.

“The food’ll be done far quicker today,” Styles says, turning to smile at Louis over his shoulder. “Are you hungry yet?”

“I could eat,” Louis says.

“Great. I’m starving. You’d think working in a bakery all day would take care of that,” Styles jokes.

“You’d think,” Louis agrees.

“Are you up for getting a bit involved tonight?” Styles asks, once they’ve reached the kitchen.

Louis ignores the double-entendre his brain wants to put into those words and reaches out to hold onto the edge of the island counter.

“Depends on what you want me to do, mate. I wasn’t joking yesterday when I said eggs on toast.”

“Can you slice bread?” Styles asks, voice solemn and face blank in what Louis hopes is _mock_ seriousness.

“Yes, I can slice bread,” he says.

Styles’s face splits into a grin and Louis tries hard not to notice how pretty he is like that. That’s just... that’s not what Louis’s here for.

“Alright, so... just regular slices. About half of the loaf should be enough,” Styles says handing over a chopping board with a loaf of white bread and a big bread knife.

Professional knives are always a bit intimidating, Louis thinks. They’re just a tad larger than your IKEA household counterpart usually and Louis feels like he’s not qualified enough to do this when he picks the bread knife up, even though it is literally just slicing bread.

On the other side of the counter Styles starts cutting off the ends of green beans with the kind of precision and nonchalance that comes from years of wielding absurdly sharp knives. Louis watches him for a few heartbeats before he cuts the loaf of bread in half and starts slicing it. They work in silence for a bit until Styles is done chopping the ends off of the green beans and Louis is left with the end of the loaf of bread.

“Did you make this then?” he asks, holding up the end of the golden brown loaf.

“Why would I buy bread elsewhere when I literally own a bakery?” Styles asks with a good-natured chuckle.

“Just checking,” Louis says and tears a bit off the end, popping it into his mouth. It’s soft and airy the way white bread always is, but it tastes a lot more like actual bread than the stuff Louis usually buys at Sainsbury’s.

“‘s good,” he says. Styles grins.

“High praise,” he says.

Louis rolls his eyes.

“So. I’ve sliced the bread.”

“You have.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, just a moment,” Styles says and sweeps the beans into a pot, filling it up with water and setting it to boil. Then he pulls a few cloves of garlic from one of the baskets on the shelf and hands them to Louis, followed by a bottle of olive oil and handfuls of herbs. Louis just takes everything and dumps it on his chopping board. Finally Styles hands Louis a new knife.

“Start with washing and chopping the herbs,” he says. He smiles like Louis can back out any moment but Louis actually sort of likes it. He doesn’t have anything against cooking as such it’s just that he’s no good at it on his own. And it dead boring when you’re stood in your kitchen all by yourself. Like this, with supervision and even just the calm presence of another person it’s a completely different thing.

So he washes herbs and chops them and occasionally looks up to see Styles flitting through the kitchen, whisking something in a little bowl, cutting up salmon filets, arranging the slices of bread on a cooking grid, or pouring the beans out into a colander. When Louis deems the herbs chopped finely enough, Styles comes to stand by his elbow, a bowl of olive oil and a strange tongs-like thing in his hands.

“What now?” Louis asks.

“Now you peel the garlic, press it into the oil here, add the herbs and then brush that onto the bread,” Styles says.

That silver tongs-y thing must be a garlic press, then.

“I can do that,” Louis says, even though this is all starting to sound a bit like being responsible for something. Louis is definitely not a fan of culinary responsibility.

“I have faith in you,” Styles says and then rounds the island counter to do something to the salmon that Louis isn’t paying attention to, too busy peeling and pressing the garlic. 

“Are you done?” Styles asks, just as Louis stirs the herbs into the oil-garlic mixture with the spoon Styles set down next to the bowl.

“Um, no?” Louis says. “Almost?”

“Good enough,” Styles says with a grin, turning back around to the stove. Louis can hear the sizzle when Styles starts grilling the fish and it’s not long until the scent of it fills up the room. It does smell amazing. Louis hasn’t had salmon in _forever_. He should eat more fish that isn’t fish and chips when he goes out to eat.

Styles watches him slowly brush the seasoned oil onto the slices of white bread with his smile still in place

“Sorry, I’m a bit slow,” Louis says, feeling the tips of his ears go warm. Styles waves him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “Are you having fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Louis says, drizzling the last of the oil from the bowl onto a slice of bread before brushing it around a bit. Mostly he’s moving bits of garlic around but he wants them to be spread evenly, so that’s alright.

“That’s the important part then,” Styles says and takes the cooking grid when Louis sets the bowl down. He slides it into an oven Louis hasn’t even noticed him turn on and then hurries over to the stove to flip the fish around before he quickly rinses their utensils, puts them in the dishwasher and then wipes down the island counter. It’s all terribly efficient and Louis can’t do anything but stand back and watch, rooted to the spot.

Styles takes two plates from somewhere and sets them down on the counter, arranging a nest of green beans on each of them, adding slices of hard boiled egg that Louis has no recollection of noticing him boil. Maybe he’d already had them in the fridge. Maybe that’s something that chefs do, have hard boiled eggs handy. Without pause, Style turns around to grab the grill pan from the stove and sets two salmon fillets on each nest of green beans and eggs before setting the pan back down and drizzling the entire bean-fish thing with some sort of sauce-y thing he mixed earlier.

Louis can’t say it doesn’t look and smell delicious but there’s no way he could ever put that much effort into food just for himself. He wonders whether Styles does when he doesn’t have anyone over. Does he ever order a pizza out of laziness or grab a ready-made meal from Sainsbury’s? Does he even shop at a regular supermarket or is it all wholesale and farmer’s markets?

“You okay over there?” Styles asks then, pulling Louis from his musings.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Louis says. “Just wondering if this is how you eat every night.”

“Um, most of the time, yeah,” Styles says. “I mean, that took barely more than twenty minutes.”

“True,” Louis says with a half nod half shrug thing. It still seems too much effort just to eat something.

“I do go for beans on toast more often than you probably think though,” Styles teases. Louis holds back the urge to poke his tongue out at him.

“Well, maybe tomorrow I’ll return the favour and cook you dinner,” he says instead, which _what?_ Louis didn’t even have time to form that thought before it was out of his mouth.

Styles grins broadly at him.

“You’re very welcome to,” he says.

“You’re just saying that cause you’ve not tasted anything I tried to cook yet,” Louis says, trying not to get too caught up in the thought of cooking together like this again.

“You told me yesterday you’re good at beans on toast,” Styles insists.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not... this,” Louis says, gesturing at the green bean and salmon nests.

“That looks a lot fancier than it is,” Styles says, waving him off. Before Louis can say anything in reply, the oven dings once and Styles grabs a basket laid out with a (proper) napkin and collects the garlic bread in it. Louis is pretty sure this is exactly as fancy as it looks. At least by Louis’ standards.

“Can you take this?” Styles turns to Louis to ask, holding the basket out to him.

“I’ll manage,” Louis says, deadpan.

Styles winks and grabs the two plates, carrying them through to the dining room, Louis following on his heel.

Toothless trots in just as Styles tells Louis to sit, most probably having smelled the fish. Louis would give him a bit, since Styles just vanishes back into the kitchen to grab whatever it is they’re still missing. Drinks, maybe. It’s just that he’s not sure it’s actually healthy for cats to eat grilled salmon. He doesn’t know what Styles seasoned it with and there are fishbones still in it, right? He doesn’t fancy choking Styles’ cat, if he’s honest.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Styles asks when he comes back, carrying the bottle and two glasses in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other.

“I will if you do,” Louis says with a smile.

Toothless stops begging for food (or attention?) when Styles pets his head for a bit while Louis insists on opening the wine and pouring it for them. That at least is something he can do. Maybe not all properly, the way they do in posh restaurants with the napkin around the bottle and such, but he can pull a cork and he doesn’t spill. It’ll have to be enough.

Styles lifts his glass and lifts it towards Louis.

“Cheers,” he grins.

“Cheers,” Louis says, mirroring him.

The food is as delicious as it smells and Louis preens perhaps a bit more than garlic bread warrants when Styles compliments him on a job well done. It’s not like there was much he could’ve done wrong, but it’s also the first time he has ever attempted anything like it. He’s allowed to be a little proud. Styles doesn’t seem to mind anyway.

Dinner conversation is just as easy as it was the day before.

Louis learns that the thing Styles was most glad for going away to boarding school for his chef training was that none of his classmates could develop crushes on his older sister, but that the thing he missed most was squabbling with her over the amount of things either of them got away with and why their mum preferred the one to the other and everything was terribly unfair. He learns that Styles laughs at even the flimsiest jokes and that his hair used to be almost a dark blond and pin straight when he was a child. (On that occasion he also learns what Styles looked like as a toddler, because he refuses to believe it and Styles pulls out an actual honest-to-god baby photo.)

Louis also learns that in the softer lighting of the dining room Styles seems as if Louis’s looking at him through a permanent soft focus lense. His skin looks soft and smooth, his eyes actually twinkle and he keeps biting and pinching his lips to a raspberry pink. It’s not helping with Louis’ plan to not notice how gorgeous he is. He has no use for that information, or for the way his own lips twitch to copy Styles’ every laugh. He definitely has no use for the pleased squirming in his belly at having caused all that laughter.

The one glass of wine is just not enough for Louis to blame any of this on. Neither is the span of two dinners together, which is really the only time they spent in each other’s company.

Styles starts yawning around nine and Louis remembers that he has no idea when he usually gets up apart from that it’s probably early, what with it being a bakery and all.

“I don’t mean to kick you out...” Styles starts off and smiles ruefully.

“Not a problem. You must be knackered,” Louis says and stands to help clear the table.

“I assume you will be back tomorrow?” Styles asks, twinkle still bright in his eye even in the kitchen light.

“For dinner?” Louis asks.

“For the egg,” Styles clarifies. “But also for dinner, if you want. You did promise beans on toast.”

Louis very clearly remembers no such promises being made.

“Well, I suppose I mustn’t break a promise...”

“No, you mustn’t,” Styles agrees. “Sets a terrible example.”

“For who?” Louis asks, amused.

“Toothless, of course,” Styles says, grinning cheekily. He trails Louis to the door, where he leans against the wall like his body is getting too heavy for him to hold up and watches Louis pull on his jacket and slip on his shoes.

“You know, you could just stay in my guest room, with how much you’re here,” Styles offers. “I mean, I assume it’s only going to be more when the egg gets closer to hatching?”

It would indeed make it easier. Louis swallows and licks his lips.

“I’ll think about it. Thanks for the offer,” he says. “You’re very kind.”

Styles shrugs.

“It gets lonely and I have the room,” he says candidly, as if that’s a thing you say to quasi-strangers.

“Thank you for dinner, Harry,” Louis says, instead of an answer. What could he say to that anyway?

“Thank you for the garlic bread,” Harry says with a grin.

Louis decisively shuts down any idle wondering about what a kiss between them would taste like right now and trots down the stairs, stepping aside to let Harry unlock the back door for him. He shivers a bit in the first rush of night air as he steps outside.

“Goodnight,” Harry says behind him.

Louis turns to smile at him.

“Goodnight.”

* * *

Truth is, Zayn only booked the room till Wednesday morning, with a tentative extension until the weekend, so Harry’s offer for Louis to stay in his guest room couldn’t have been more convenient. Just because Louis thinks he’s a bit pretty isn’t going to impede him from being a generally friendly and polite human being and doing his job, so really there’s no reason Louis shouldn’t take him up on the offer. It would certainly make keeping an eye on the egg a lot easier if all he has to do is roll out of bed.

So Louis packs his things, checks out and parks his rental on the back lot of Harry’s property. The sign in the shop door still says they’re closed and as opposed to the day before, Niall doesn’t make a well-timed appearance either. Instead of loitering in front of the shop, Louis goes back around to the back door and he pulls out his phone to call Harry.

It goes to voicemail, but before Louis can try again Harry calls him back.

“Morning,” Louis says.

“Morning. Sorry, I didn’t get to my phone in time. Are you here already?” Harry asks, sounding a bit frazzled.

“Yeah, round back. Shall I come to the front?”

“No, no, that’s alright, I’ll let you right in,” Harry says and then the line goes dead. Louis pockets his phone and shuffles his weight from one foot to the other, letting his gaze flit around the small, paved back lot. The air is still a bit crisp, although the sun is warm against Louis’ face and fingers, and he tilts his head up towards it a bit. It’s so quiet here.

The door opens and Louis turns away from the sun towards Harry peeking out past the door.

“Morning,” Harry says again. Despite the fact that he’s definitely been up longer than Louis he looks far less tired, back in his chef’s uniform with his hair hidden under a bandana.

“Morning,” Louis repeats and follows Harry inside.

“Have you decided about staying here?” Harry asks, hand already back on the door to the shop and his kitchen.

“If it’s really alright, that’d be great,” Louis says.

“Sure, yeah. Wouldn’t have offered otherwise, would I,” Harry says. “I’ll show you where everything is after the morning rush is done, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t mean to keep you,” Louis says and shoots Harry a smile.

“Great. I’ll see you then,” Harry says and turns back into the shop. Louis blinks at the closed door for a moment before turning up the stairs to go check on the egg.

He can still only hear the heartbeat through the stethoscope, no scratching or tapping at the eggshell, so at least he knows it’s not about to pop out of the egg any moment now. He completely forgot to ask whether Harry could remember when the film had started drying last night, so he’s no closer to a slightly more specific estimate than “soon”. It all feels a bit ominous. Louis is not good at waiting for things to happen. He’s good at reacting to them when they do happen, but this sitting around waiting business is not exactly his preferred cup of tea.

Speaking of a cup of tea. Surely Harry has tea in his kitchen.

Louis hesitates for a moment, but then puts the cage back over the egg, the fireguard in front of the fireplace and makes his way to the kitchen. He’d not begrudge anyone a cup of tea and Harry hardly seems like the kind of person who would. He’s not about to disrupt any of the meticulous order in Harry’s kitchen, so it should be fine, right? Right.

It takes Louis a while to find tea - there’s only loose one and Louis can’t find a tea egg or anything of the like, but it’s fine, he’ll just carefully drink around it - and then even longer to find a mug. Eventually he works out that Harry keeps all his dishes in the dining room. There’s a set of mugs with dragons painted on and Louis smiles to himself and grabs the one decorated with the Scandinavian Hammertail. He finds the kettle rather quickly, thankful that he at least knows how to work that and won’t have to figure out Harry’s gas stove to boil water. Five minutes later he’s back on the loveseat with the Terry Pratchett, getting sucked back into the adventures of Nanny Ogg, Granny Weatherwax and Magrat Garlick.

By the time Harry comes upstairs sometime in the late morning he’s only got about forty pages left.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” he says with a nod at the now empty mug of tea by Louis’ side and a teasing smile, a plate with two croissants in hand.

“Tea is actually where I get all my sustenance from,” Louis says. “I just eat for fun.”

“Like a tea vampire?” Harry asks and then holds up the plate. “So I’m guessing you don’t want a croissant today either?”

“Chocolate?” Louis asks.

“I have one of those. The other one’s marzipan.”

How is that supposed to help anyone decide?

“Or you can have half each,” Harry offers.

“Thank you,” Louis says with a grin. If only every supposed dragon egg he goes to check out came with gourmet food and croissants.

“I’ll show you your room first, yeah?” Harry suggests.

“Yeah, thank you. My boss is going to love you for minimising my expenses,” Louis teases, following Harry around the corner.

“Loo’s right there. Bathroom opposite it,” Harry points out and then turns down a very short hallway behind the parlour, gesturing towards the door at the end of it.

“That one’s mine and this,” he says, opening the door to the room between Harry’s and the bathroom, “is the guest room.”

It’s small, but there’s a bed, a small dresser and a window. The walls are painted a soft blue and the sheets on the bed are white. There’s a photo of a sailing yacht out on the ocean hung by the window.

“The bedrooms face west so there’s never a lot of light in here, but that’s what the parlour’s for,” Harry says, as though he’s apologising.

“It’s lovely,” Louis says. “Really. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“It’s no trouble,” Harry says and then halfs the croissants, handing Louis one of each half on a napkin. “I’m gonna go have a nap, but you could keep Niall company downstairs if you’re bored.”

“Thanks. I’ll be alright,” Louis says.

“Okay.”

Harry gives him a parting smile and then leaves him to look around the room. The door to the bedroom next door closes softly and Louis can hear Harry shuffle around the room a bit before it goes quiet. Louis can’t imagine being quite so trusting with his own home. He quietly closes the door to the guest room and makes his way back to the parlour with the croissants, intent on finishing the book. Maybe after that he’ll go downstairs to join Niall.

The book takes less time to finish than Louis originally thought and after having played with Toothless for a bit, he finds himself creeping downstairs. Going straight for another book would probably look like Louis was avoiding any sort of human interaction, which could be considered a bit rude, and he’s not much in the mood for more reading anyway. It’s never been his favourite pass time.

“Dragon man!” Niall greets him enthusiastically, throwing his arms up. The shop is blessedly empty.

“Hey, Niall,” Louis grins, shuffling behind the counter to lean against the wall there.

“Aw, you remember my name? I forgot yours. Sorry,” Niall says. He pulls an apologetic sort of slightly over the top grimace. Louis can’t help but grin at him.

“No worries, mate. I’m Louis,” he says.

“And you’re here for Harry’s egg, yeah?” Niall asks.

“Yep,” Louis says with a nod.

“So I don’t have to ask your intentions and fear for his virtue?” Niall teases, grin gone a little bit crooked.

“Nah, I’m just interested in the baby he already has,” Louis grins back and tries not to give too much thought to the implication that Harry might let Louis anywhere near his virtue. Probably Niall’s just worried Harry’s letting a relative stranger live in his house. Louis would be worried, if Zayn did. And while Harry’s smile might be unexpectedly bright in low lighting, that doesn’t move London any closer. Even if there were more to it than just a charming bloke with a charming face, what are they going to do? Go on a date once a month?

Niall laughs.

“Yeah, he keeps finding those.”

Wait.

“He has _more_?” Louis asks. Surely Harry wouldn’t be so stupid as to hide another egg from Louis, especially now that he knows how much could go wrong with it.

“Well, he has Toothless now. He was a stray too. H found him in a bush on a walk a couple weeks ago,” Niall says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. The cat he had as a kid was a stray as well, I think he once told me. And now that dragon egg,” Niall goes on.

“Bloody hell, that’s some Disney princess level stuff,” Louis says, eyebrows hiked up on his forehead.

Niall laughs again, whether at Louis’ face or what he said, Louis isn’t sure. It’s easy to see why Niall and Harry get along though, if they’re both so easily amused.

“Animals just seem to like him. Animals, kids and old ladies,” Niall lists. That Louis can very easily imagine, if Harry’s always as open and giving as he’s been to Louis.

“Doesn’t sound any less like a Disney princess,” Louis idly comments.

“He probably wouldn’t mind the comparison, to be honest,” Niall says, shrugging it off and turning towards the front when the door opens and two little old ladies stumble inside. Louis hands back and lets Niall do his thing, smiling at the women when they look at him curiously.

“So d’you reckon it really is a dragon egg?” Niall asks then, coming to stand closer by Louis and speaking a little more quietly.

“I can’t tell for sure, but I’m fairly certain, yeah. A colleague over in Abergavenny thinks so too,” Louis says.

“Wicked. You always hear them stories about people finding dragon eggs and such but they always turn out to be just talk,” Niall says.

Louis nods emphatically. Doesn’t he know it.

“Did you really just find H on instagram?”

“Yeah, we’ve people whose job it is to find people bragging about weird eggs they found on social media,” Louis says. “They trawl through the tags and everything and when something stands out they pass it along to people like me.”

Well, they pass it along to people like Zayn, who passes it along to people like Louis, if it does indeed look like something that should be taken a closer look at.

“No offense, but that sounds dead boring,” Niall says.

“It is. I did it when I was in uni, part time.”

“And now you get to.... go to Wales and make sure some poor bloke isn’t unwittingly hatching something dangerous?”

“Pretty much,” Louis says.

“Don’t you mind the travelling?”

“Nah. I get restless when I’m in one place too long.”

“No girlfriend pining away for you back in London?” Niall asks, waggling his eyebrows. Louis shrugs.

“Not really for me.”

“Oh, sorry,” Niall says. “Boyfriend then?”

“None of those either, but I meant that I’m not looking to settle down or anything yet,” Louis says with a laugh.

“Not a family guy?” Niall asks. Usually, Louis would find this line of questioning far too nosy to indulge a stranger in answering them, but there’s something about Niall’s honest interest and guilelessness that makes Louis not mind much.

“No, I do want kids at some point, I’m just not feeling the urge right now,” Louis explains, even if it’s not entirely true. It’s not that he pines away for a partner and children every hour of every day but when he sees young couples and their babies in the street or goes back home and spends a bit of time with his youngest siblings, who’ve only just started school he sort of... does feel the pull to have something like that of his own. But he doesn’t plan to divulge quite that much information.

“Well, you’ve got time yet,” Niall says with a shrug.

“I like to think so, yes,” Louis grins. “What about you?”

“My girlfriend and I live a couple streets over but we’re not in a baby hurry,” Niall says, dopey grin blooming on his face at the mention of his girlfriend. It’s that look, or more specifically the feeling behind it, that Louis misses, even if he doesn’t think he ever really experienced it with any of his ex-boyfriends. Maybe the very first one, but. Well. Louis was very easily pleased at fifteen. The fact that a fit boy wanted to hold his hand and snog him occasionally was entirely enough to have Louis on cloud nine for months.

“Well, you’ve got time,” Louis parrots with a wink, prompting a chuckle from Niall.

“Exactly,” Niall says.

“So how does an Irish lad end up in the middle of nowhere in Wales?”

“Met my girlfriend in uni in Dublin and when she moved back here for family reasons I followed her,” Niall says with a shrug.

“You been together long then?”

“Going on five years, yeah,” Niall says, smile going soft.

“Not bad,” Louis says, bumping his shoulder into Niall’s. He’s impressed by anyone who can hold a relationship that long, never mind move to a different country for it. Especially Wales. Not that Louis has anything against Wales, but, well, Llandovery is very definitely not Dublin.

“Yeah. This used to be her gran’s bakery, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. H started renting it from the family two years ago when she died,” Niall says.

Louis is saved from having to react to that statement by Harry’s re-appearance in the shop.

“Are you divulging my trade secrets again?” Harry asks. He’s out of his chef’s uniform now, hair in a loose bun and dressed in skinny jeans and a henley instead.

“All of them. Louis’s gonna out-bake you any day now,” Niall says gravely. Louis can’t help the grin when Harry catches his eye. Louis won’t out-bake anyone. Ever.

“Well, suppose you’ll be out of a job then,” Harry says and grabs one of the green aprons from underneath the counter, tying it around his waist. Niall laughs at him good-naturedly and unties his own apron.

“He already offered me a raise,” he says.

Harry turns to Louis, one big hand flat against his chest over his heart.

“You would betray me like that?”

“It’s just business, love. Nothing personal,” Louis says with an overly affected shrug.

“Nothing personal? But what about Paris?” Harry mock-gasps.

“Well, I suppose we’ll always have Paris,” Louis says, pursing his lips against the urge to smile.

Harry and Niall both laugh at him, before Niall claps first Harry then Louis on the back.

“Well, I’m gonna leave you two to it then. Call me if there’s anything going on with the egg, yeah?”

“Sure, Niall,” Harry says, straightening out his jumper and shooting a sheepish glance to the two ladies still sitting by the large shop window.

“Otherwise I’ll see you Saturday, H.”

“Same as every week,” Harry says with a grin that makes Niall roll his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Styles, I’m going,” Niall says. He waves to the two old ladies as he goes and then makes off down the street with enough of a bounce in his step that it almost looks like he’s skipping.

“Have you had lunch yet?” Harry asks then.

“Um, no. I had a big breakfast,” Louis says. Not to say that he’s not feeling a bit peckish but there’s a difference between making himself a cup of tea and raiding Harry’s fridge. Not to mention that Louis probably wouldn’t know what to do with any of what he found there anyway.

“Have a pasty,” Harry says and picks one up from behind the glass display, handing it to Louis.

“Don’t you need those?” Louis asks, a bit bewildered.

“I’m closed tomorrow and Friday, and the pasties don’t keep that long,” Harry says. “There’ll probably be a few left over by the time I close today, so you might as well have one now.”

“Alright, thanks,” Louis says and reaches for the pasty. “But if you do end up selling out of them and someone asks for one, I’m paying you.”

Harry laughs.

“You really don’t need to, but if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It would. You’ll have to tell me what I owe you for staying and eating all your food as well.”

“You don’t need to pay me,” Harry says, waving Louis off. “It’s not like i generally rent out my guest room.

“The company would have to pay for the room at the inn and whatever I eat there anyway, so. It’s not like I don’t have an expense budget,” Louis points out.

“Well, alright. We’ll work something out before you leave,” Harry says and turns to wipe down the counter. Louis watches the slope of his shoulders for a moment before turning away and grabbing a napkin from the counter so he won’t leave crumbs all over the floor.

“So, Niall told me you started renting this two years ago,” Louis says, eyes fluttering shut as he takes the first bite of the pasty. The croissants this morning were amazing, but Louis has always been a bit more of a fan of savoury things than sweets. Not that he doesn’t appreciate a good slice of cake, but he’s not someone who gets chocolate cravings and suchlike a lot.

“I did, yeah,” Harry says, turning back around when he’s satisfied with the state of the counter.

Louis waits for him to go on and rolls his eyes when he doesn’t.

“And?” he asks.

“And what?” Harry asks back.

“And what did you do before that? You know practically my entire life story,” Louis says.

“I was in London. I worked in a restaurant kitchen,” Harry says, shrugging. “Not so much to tell, really.”

“How did you meet Niall, then?”

“At a concert in London, actually. We were both there, got talking, became friends. Then he told me about this bakery and I sort of wanted to get out of London anyway, so... that was that. Basically.”

“You didn’t like London?” Louis asks.

“I liked it fine, it just got a bit too much,” Harry says, with the sort of finality that means there’s more to the story but not more he’s telling Louis right now.

“Well, this is definitely... less,” Louis says.

Harry laughs.

“It is definitely that. I like it here though. I grew up in a village not much larger than this.”

“Really? I grew up in Doncaster and even that felt a bit too small towards the end of school,” Louis says. He does see the appeal of a smaller town, but something like Llandovery would be several sizes too small for him, he thinks.

“A city boy,” Harry teases. “And yet so interested in dragons.”

“Just because they like open space doesn’t mean I have to,” Louis laughs. It’s definitely one of the few things that could pull him out into the country though. Working at a Habitat would probably be exciting enough that he doesn’t miss the bustle of a city.

“If you say so...” Harry says, trailing off.

One of the old ladies waves him over then, so he leaves Louis by the counter, walking over to them. Louis listens to him chat with them while patiently waiting for one of them to find her wallet in her purse like he’s done it countless times before. Harry asks after grandkids and pets and talks about the weather like he actually finds it fascinating. When he helps one of them to her feet and holds the door open for them, she pats his cheek as she passes him and presses a banknote into his hand, like he _is_ one of her grandkids. Louis huffs an amused breath watching the interaction and raises a teasing eyebrow at Harry when he turns back around.

“Is that how you make your money then? Charming old ladies out of their pensions?”

“It’s called ‘tipping’, Louis. It’s perfectly normal,” Harry says and puts the fiver into the register with the rest of the money.

“Whatever makes you feel better, I suppose,” Louis says with a heavy sigh and dances out of the way when Harry reaches out to swat at him for it. Harry rolls his eyes at him, but smiles and then goes to collect the dishes from the table the little old ladies sat at and carries them through to the kitchen. Louis grabs the rag Harry just used to wipe down the counter and wipes down the table, in order to not feel quite so useless.

“Oh. You didn’t need to do that,” Harry says when he reappears from the kitchen, looking half grateful and half chagrined.

Louis shrugs it off.

“So why Wobblebelly?” he asks.

“Oh. Well, they’re Welsh. And we’re in Wales,” Harry says.

“That’s it? You just figured a bit of national pride might sell your pasties?”

“Well, yeah. And I like them. And if you eat too much cake you’ll have a wobblebelly,” he adds with a grin and pinches a tiny roll of meat at his stomach. Louis rolls his eyes at him. Judging by the general frame of Harry’s body there’s not one part of his belly that wobbles.

“I guess it must be working, since you’ve been here for two years,” Louis says.

Harry laughs.

“I guess it must.”

“So, why are you closed on Thursdays and Fridays?”

“You’re very curious aren’t you?” Harry asks back, watching Louis amble back over to the counter and lean against the wall next to him.

“Just trying to make conversation. We can always be silent if you’d rather,” Louis says.

“Actually, I would much prefer that,” Harry says, nodding his head so gravely that for a moment Louis believes him.

“My apologies,” Louis says. “I’ll stop talking then.”

“You’re still talking.”

“So are you!”

Harry mimes locking his mouth and throwing out the key. Louis crosses his arms.

They make it about five minutes, the clock on the wall ticking them away one by one, even though they seem to stretch like bubblegum. They catch each other’s eyes again and again, pulling sillier and sillier faces until turning away and staring at the wall doesn’t work anymore and they both burst into laughter.

“You’re such a child!” Louis laughs.

“Me? You’re the one who brought up being quiet!”

“You’re the one who took it seriously!”

They both giggle at each other again until the laughter fades out into smiles.

“So, hey, I thought we could make beans on toast my way tonight?” Harry suggest.

“Your way? I thought you were going to let me cook them,” Louis teases. He’s not at all opposed to more of Harry’s cooking. He’ll go back to his own beans and toast soon enough.

“You can make scrambled eggs for breakfast tomorrow,” Harry says with a shrug.

“Alright. Sure,” Louis says only noticing now that Harry is leaning against the wall directly next to him that he has to actually properly look up at him. He knew that Harry’s taller than him but with a bit more space between them it’s not so noticeable. Up close it’s an entirely different story, apparently.

A beat of silence passes between them then, not charged with the silliness of before, but relaxed and amicable. Louis studies the curve of Harry’s gentle smile and reminds himself that he’ll most probably be back in London this time next week.

The door opening draws Harry’s attention away and he turns to the boy that comes in an shyly asks for three croissants.

* * *

The first thing Harry has Louis do is slice bread because “you did such a good job of it last night”. Louis hipchecks him before he can move away, but does as Harry asks. While he’s busy slicing bread, Harry does something to a large can of beans that Louis doesn’t bother paying attention to. It involves pureed tomatoes and herbs and a dash of wine.

“What do I do once I’ve sliced it?” Louis asks, setting the knife down.

“You toast it, of course,” Harry says, without turning around. Louis is pretty sure he’s grinning to himself at the stove.

“Very clever, Harold,” he says. “Where’s your toaster?”

Harry turns around and pulls one of those sandwich toasters from underneath the island counter and hands it to Louis.

“There’s a plug socket over there by the oven,” he says. “If you want the toast to be warm though, you should wait a bit.”

“Not done yet?” Louis teases, carrying the toaster over to the counter space next to the oven that Harry indicated and plugging it in.

“Not quite, no,” Harry grins, unabashed.

“I thought this was going to be a quick and easy thing,” Louis says.

“I did tell you I sometimes change my mind by the time I get to the kitchen,” Harry points out. “Want to help me slice cherry tomatoes?”

“More tomatoes?” Louis asks. He was under the impression the beans were already cooking in a tomato sauce.

“Always,” Harry intones very seriously.

“Yeah, sure,” Louis shrugs, trying not purse his lips against the easy grin that seems to want to sit there semi-permanently.

“Great,” Harry says, placing two cutting boards and two knives that Louis thinks are surely unnecessarily big for slicing cherry tomatoes on the island counter. Then he grabs a colander full of washed cherry tomatoes from the sink. When does he do all these things? Louis cannot for the life of him figure out how Harry does all of these things while Louis... slices bread. Practice, probably.

“We’re only halving them, so nothing fancy,” Harry says, plucking out a tomato and neatly slicing it in half. Louis never quite figured out how chefs hold their fingers like that and still manage to hold whatever it is they’re slicing still. Practice again, he guesses.

“Please watch your fingers,” Harry says as Louis reaches for his knife. “They knives are... sharp.”

Louis is about to quip something back, but as soon as he slices his first tomato he realises what Harry meant. The knife really is _very_ sharp. When Louis looks up Harry is smirking down at his tomato. Louis picks up his tomato halves and tosses them onto Harry’s cutting board. By the time they’ve gotten through all the tomatoes in the colander, the pile on Harry’s cutting board is significantly larger than the one on Louis’. Harry winks at Louis cheekily and then grabs a pan from overhead and sets it on the stove.

“Did you want me to start toasting now?” Louis asks primly while Harry fires up the stove and pours oil in the pan.

“Not yet,” Harry says. “These should really go in the oven, but I’ve not got the patience for that today.”

Louis gasps exaggeratedly.

“Well, we might as well just order pizza then.”

“Fun fact: there is no food delivery in Llandovery,” Harry says.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. You can go out to eat and several places do takeaway but you’ll have to go get it yourself.”

“That’s a travesty,” Louis says.

Harry laughs.

“It’s really not that bad. Nothing’s far at all here.”

“But what if I’m in my pajamas and I really, really don’t want to move?”

“Then you starve,” Harry says. “Like that donkey between the hay and the water.”

“What?” Louis asks, laugh in his voice.

“It’s a thing, isn’t it? From decision making theory or whatever it’s called? If a donkey were equally hungry and thirsty and stuck exactly midway between water and some hay it’d die of thirst and hunger ‘cause there’d be no reason to pick one over the other,” Harry explains.

“Except survival,” Louis points out.

Harry laughs.

“I don’t exactly remember how it goes. It’s a thing.”

“Is that the kind of thing they teach you in culinary school?”

“Not really, no. I read about it somewhere sometime. Can’t remember. It just sounded intriguing, you know. How we’re so proud of being reasonable as, like, people, but we’re probably really not,” Harry says and shrugs. He stirs a spoonful of golden syrup into the tomatoes and sprinkles them with a few more herbs.

“Yeah, but... talking to literally anyone ever will also tell you that,” Louis says.

Harry laughs.

“That’s probably true. You can start toasting now, if you want. Butter’s in the fridge, if you want that.”

“Alright,” Louis says and turns the toaster on. Most of these need a while to warm up, so he goes to get the butter before he pops the first two slices of bread into the toaster.

“Do you toast first and butter after?” Harry asks, watching him curiously.

“Is that like a tea or milk first thing?” Louis asks back.

“Maybe! I’ve never seen someone toast first and butter after, I don’t think.”

“Well, I toast a bit first so that when you butter, you’re not tearing up the bread,” Louis says. Years of making cheese toasties for his sisters have at least taught him a thing or two about toasting fluffy white bread.

“That’s... very clever,” Harry says. “I can’t believe I never thought of that.”

Louis laughs.

“Neither can I! You never thought of that?”

“No,” Harry says, sheepishly. “I started melting the butter and brushing it on to avoid that.”

“Also clever,” Louis says. “And far too advanced for me.”

Harry shrugs.

“Learned it when I apprenticed.”

“Well, now you know this trick as well,” Louis says, taking the bread from the toaster and smearing a thin coat of butter on both sides before putting them back.

“I’ll cherish it forever,” Harry says solemnly before turning back to his cherry tomatoes.

They finish in companionable silence, but once they’re seated at the table conversation comes back naturally. Louis learns about the time Harry got stuck in a coal bunker when he was seven He learns about how Harry found the cat he grew up with - Dusty - in that coal bunker and how his mum had rescued them both, Harry handing her the kitten before he accepted help climbing out. He learns about how he’d fancied himself a rockstar at fourteen when he joined his friend’s band until he left for culinary school in London two years later. He learns about the time a friend convinced him to dye his hair green for Halloween and it had turned out to be a permanent dye that he’d carried around until well into the new year, much to the amusement of all his classmates.

He learns that Harry takes his tea with sugar and lemon when he has a cuppa after dinner so he won’t fall asleep too soon and wake up at four the following morning. He learns that Harry’s favourite mug is the one with the Welsh Wobblebelly (no surprise) and how far his fingers can curl around it. He learns the way his eyes glaze over when he’s tired as they sit up in the parlour and chat until Harry retires to bed.

Louis figures the best way to shut his head up is probably to go to sleep as well.

* * *

“When I was a kid...” Harry starts, making Louis look up from where he’s pretending to mess around on his tablet, while he’s actually watching Harry lazily play with Toothless, sprawled out on his back on the floor of the parlour.

“Hm?”

“My gran used to call me ‘Wobblebelly’,” Harry says, face turned away to ostensibly look at Toothless on his other side. There’s a dusting of pink on his cheek.

“I used to have a really heavy belly-laugh as a kid, so when I laughed my stomach would move. Sort of like the way the Wobblebelly’s moves when it’s breathing fire,” he explains.

Louis blinks, takes a moment to take that in and then can’t help picturing it. There’s no tamping down the grin that spreads over his face.

“That is the most adorable thing I have ever heard a grown man say,” he says.

Harry laughs and turns to look at Louis.

“Are you blushing?” he asks, delighted. “Why are _you_ blushing when I’m the one telling childhood stories?”

“Shut up!” Louis retorts, not exactly cleverly, and reaches up to his cheeks, rubbing at them with his far cooler fingers as if he could rub the blush right off.

“That is the most adorable thing I have ever seen a grown man do,” Harry parrots, eyes gleaming.

Louis pulls off a sock and throws it at his face. It lands on Harry’s chest instead and Toothless pounces on it immediately.

“You’re never getting that back,” Harry comments idly.

“I have others.”

The both watch Toothless throw the sock around for a bit, gnawing and clawing at it, before he picks it up and trots out of the room with it.

“Well, now I’m definitely not getting it back,” Louis says.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says, pushing himself up on to his hands. “Do you want me to go get it?”

Louis laughs.

“Nah, you look comfortable. It’s just a sock.”

Harry studies him for a moment, but lies back down on the ground, folding his hands over his stomach.

“Is this what you usually do on a day off? Just lie around and let your cat steal your socks?” Louis asks.

“Well, I don’t tend to throw my socks at my cat - or other people - so they tend to stay where they are,” Harry says. “And, no. Usually I go for a run or something.”

“Very admirable,” Louis comments. “You don’t have to stay in for me.”

“I’d feel bad if I made you watch the egg while I went out running or something. I mean, if you’d never found me I’d have to stay here and watch it.”

“Would you?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe?” Harry says, smiling winningly.

Louis can’t help shake his head a little.

“I don’t understand how people don’t understand that there are things other than dragons and that some of those things tend to kill you. Most PAMC branches will totally let you name a dragon if you bring the egg in. And they’ll probably thank you on their knees if you want patronage of it.”

“You can do that?” Harry asks excitedly.

“Yeah. Did you not look this up when you found the egg?”

Harry shrugs sheepishly from his position on the floor.

“Niall and I were a bit too excited to think straight, I think. And then we sort of... forgot.”

“What were you going to feed it?” Louis asks, curious now.

“Just meat, I think.”

“Dragons only eat regurgitated meat for the first two weeks,” Louis points out.

Harry pulls a face.

“Is that what’s in those bags? Regurgitated meat?”

“No! It’s a substitute. You soak it in water and then feed it to the dragon. Or dragon-like creature. Which this still might be.”

“You don’t think that, though,” Harry says. He sounds awfully sure of himself.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have to be prepared for it,” Louis says. “And you should be prepared for it as well. This might not be the fulfillment of all your childhood dreams.”

“I was more of a phoenix person as a child,” Harry comments idly.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Are you kidding me? They don’t die!” Harry says, grinning up at Louis. “That’s wicked.”

“They _can_ die,” Louis points out.

“Yeah, but not from old age or minor injuries. You have to kill a phoenix really hard. Plus, they’re birds. Birds that are literally on fire,” Harry says. It is, Louis has to admit, a strong argument. Especially to a four year old.

“They’re really weak to environmental changes and influences,” Louis says. “Because their life spans are so long they rarely reproduce so there’s hardly any change in species’ DNA pool. They’re probably going to die out sooner or later.”

“Wow, okay, raincloud,” Harry says.

Louis shrugs, sheepishly.

“Sorry. Hazard of the profession, I’m afraid.”

Harry waves him off lazily.

“Do any of them seem magical to you anymore?” Harry asks, tilting his head to look at Louis.

The field is still called ‘magizoology’, even though magic has nothing to do with any of these creatures. Sure, some are better understood than others, but all in all they’re just animals with unusual biology. But even the regenerative power of the phoenix isn’t unique. There’s some sort of jellyfish or something very, very deep down in the ocean that does a really similar thing.

“Yeah, sure,” Louis says. “Just because you know how a thing works doesn’t mean it’s not fascinating anymore. I mean, I assume you appreciate a good meal, even if you can probably tell how it’s been made just from eating it. It’s like when you learn about photosynthesis in school and spend a week looking at grass like it’s the coolest thing ever.”

“That’s true,” Harry agrees softly.

“When you think about it, the fact that we - or anything - is even alive is pretty magical,” Louis says.

Harry smiles up at him.

“Pretty magical, yeah.”

Louis makes a vague gesture and turns his head away, looking out through the window, resisting the urge to rub at his glowing cheeks again.

“You know what I could really go for, for lunch?” Harry asks, drawing Louis’ attention back to himself.

“What?”

“Pizza.”

“No delivery, remember,” Louis reminds him.

“We could just make some,” Harry says.

“Are you always thinking about food?” Louis asks. Their breakfast was a few hours ago though (Louis did not get to make scrambled eggs on account of Harry having gotten up an entire hour before Louis did) and depending on how much time the lunch preparations take, they could probably get started on them now. Or soon, at least. It’s another reason why Louis’s not much of a cook. He can never remember to make sure there’s food until his stomach is telling him to eat, _now_. That sort of thing doesn’t generally lend itself well to hours spent in the kitchen in preparation of a Sunday roast or something.

“Hazard of the profession,” Harry grins.

Louis laughs.

“Sure,” he says with a shrug. “I can always go for some pizza.”

He hasn’t done this much cooking in his life, he thinks. Definitely not three days in a row. With company though - and company who actually knows what they’re doing - it’s far more fun than standing at his own stove at home, trying to work out what a recipe wants him to do. Harry shows him how to mix and roll pizza dough and how to season the tomato sauce for it, even though Louis tells him multiple times that he will have forgotten everything almost as soon as Harry says it. They end up making so much they’re still eating it for dinner.

“I still can’t believe you actually put pineapple on your pizza. I always assumed that was a myth,” Louis says. They’re back in the parlour after dinner and over an hour of intensely competitive UNO. Harry’s sat on the floor again, leaning against the loveseat, while Louis has curled up in one corner of the loveseat, trying to keep his legs to himself. If he stretched his left leg out, his calf would brush the back of Harry’s head.

“They literally serve Hawaiian at Pizza Hut,” Harry says, turning the page of the Discworld novel he’s reading.

“Yeah, but no one I know eats it.”

“You’re missing out,” Harry says.

“Pineapple makes you use up more calories when you digest it than it gives you. It is clearly the devil’s work,” Louis says.

“Surely that’s a lie,” Harry says.

“No!” Louis insists. “I read it in a magazine once.”

“Oh, well, if you read it in a _magazine_...” Harry says. Louis can see the mocking tilt to his lips even without seeing most of Harry’s face.

Before Louis can try to come up with a comeback, Harry is overcome with a huge yawn, covering it up with the back of his hand while he turns his head a bit further away from Louis.

“Tired?” Louis asks, somewhat pointlessly. Harry nods and then tilts his head back against the loveseat.

If Louis had stretched his leg out, Harry’s head would be on his leg now.

“It’s way past my usual bedtime,” Harry says.

“It’s only eleven. That’s a bit weak.”

“Hey,” Harry protests. “I get up at, like, half four usually.”

Louis winces and wishes his arm were long enough to reach out and card his hand through Harry’s hair. He’s wearing it open right now and while Louis knew that if he usually wears it tied up at the back of his head it has to have a certain length, he absolutely was not prepared for the flowing, curly hair that goes down past the line of Harry’s shoulders. It’s probably a good thing that his arm is not long enough, given that he should definitely not just go run his hands through people’s hair without asking them first.

“That’s brutal,” Louis says.

Harry nods pitifully.

“It’s terrible,” he agrees.

“Bedtime then?” Louis suggests.

Harry nods again.

“For me at least,” he says.

“I think I’ll go to bed too,” Louis says. “I’ll just check on the egg again first.”

“Alright,” Harry says, heaving himself up from the floor and lifting his arms above his head, stretching out the various kinks in his body. It makes his shirt ride up. There’s ink on the skin just above the waistband of his trousers. Louis turns away before he can try and make out what it is. He absently rubs at the fabric covering his own chest piece, high up by his collarbones. He tends to forget that people don’t automatically know he has tattoos. They’re so much a part of him, it seems strange sometimes that people don’t know about them unless he takes his clothes off.

“There are extra blankets in the dresser in your room, in case you get cold,” Harry says.

“Thanks,” Louis says and smiles up at Harry.

“Goodnight, then. See you for scrambled eggs tomorrow,” Harry says.

Louis grins back.

“They’re going to knock you off your feet,” he promises.

“I’ll just bring a cushion then,” Harry quips, but his face looks exhausted.

“Goodnight,” Louis says.

Harry puts the book he’d been reading back on the shelf and then turns to leave the room. Toothless speeds down the hall after him from wherever it was he was hiding. Louis takes a moment to breathe and then gets up to put his own book away before grabbing the stethoscope and kneeling down in front of the fireplace. He checks the egg distractedly, listening to the soft bu-bu-bum, bu-bu-bum, bu-bu-bum, tap-tap --

Wait.

Tapping?

Louis adjusts the earpieces and carefully presses the diaphragm against the eggshell a little more firmly. There’s still the steady heartbeat, of course, but underneath that there’s a faint tapping sound that can only mean one thing. Whatever it is that’s inside this egg is getting ready to come out.

“Oh, shit,” Louis mouths, eyes going wide. He hasn’t ever hatched anything without a magivet present. If anything goes wrong... well. He’ll just have to cross that bridge when he gets to it. If he gets to it. For now he puts the stethoscope back, puts the cage back over the egg and the fireguard back in front of the fireplace - it’s after all not Toothless’ fault he has a terrible name - and walks round to Harry’s bedroom. He hesitates in front of the door for a moment, but then lifts his hand and knocks. Harry will definitely want to know.

“Everything okay?” Harry asks as he pulls open the door, pajama bottoms slung low on his hips and shirtless. There are far more tattoos littering his skin than just the ones by his waistline. This is _not_ the time, Louis reminds himself and fixes his gaze firmly on Harry’s face.

“The egg,” Louis says. “It’s getting read to hatch.”

Excitement blooms on Harry’s face.

“Right now?!” he asks, making a move forward. Louis automatically takes a step back to make room for him.

“Well, yes, but it could still take a while until it actually does,” Louis says. “You can go to sleep. I can come get you when it starts breaking through the shell, if you want.”

“No, I want to come watch,” Harry says, moving back into his room for a shirt, Louis presumes.

“There’s really nothing to see yet,” Louis points out, averting his eyes from the now open door. Somehow it feels like looking into Harry’s bedroom would be snooping.

“You may see these thing all the time, but I don’t,” Harry says, pulling the door shut behind himself and pulling on the henley he’d worn during the day. Louis bites the inside of his lower lip and looks away from the way the muscles shift under Harry’s skin with the motion.

“I’ve actually not seen one in years,” Louis says, following Harry back to the parlour.

“Well, then, aren’t you excited?” Harry asks, grinning at Louis over his shoulder. Louis smiles back and shrugs. Of course he’s excited.

“You can have a listen, if you want,” Louis says when they’re back in the parlour. The exhaustion from before is wiped away from Harry’s face, replaced by a giddy kind of anticipation.

“Please,” he says, kneeling down in front of the fireplace by Louis’ side.

“Be careful with this, yeah?” Louis says, handing him the stethoscope. “Don’t press it against the shell too hard, you don’t need to. And don’t scrape the shell with it either. Trust me, you do not want to hear how rough the surface of a dragon egg is.”

Harry nods eagerly and lets Louis move the fireguard and cage out of the way for him. Louis watches him lean forward and adjust the earpieces, gingerly pressing the diaphragm against the eggshell like he thinks he’ll break it if he pushes too hard. It’d definitely take more than a few fingers pushed against it a little harshly to break that shell.

Harry’s face lights up at whatever it is he’s hearing, the concentrated frown on his brow replaced by open wonder. Louis can’t help but smile at it. Life is indeed magical.

“This is so amazing,” Harry whispers, then leans back, taking off the stethoscope.

“So do we just wait or help it along or something?” he asks.

“No, no, we just wait,” Louis says. “Well, for the first twelve hours at least. Then generally a vet would make the call whether to get it out or wait longer. It’s better if they can make their way out themselves. Tests their strength and such.”

Harry nods along solemnly like Louis is imparting some sort of great wisdom to him. Louis tries to keep his smile firm and secure. He may not be an expert on dragons and other creatures hatching, but between the two of them he’s definitely closer to it. He’ll just have to deal with this. In the morning he’ll call Payne over in Abergavenny and then they’ll most probably come pick it up and that will be that. He’ll be back home before the week’s over.

“Would you like some tea?” Harry asks, pulling Louis out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. That’d be great, thanks,” he says, watching Harry climb to his feet and amble towards the kitchen.

Toothless comes trotting into the parlour and makes a beeline for the fireplace. Louis grabs him and pulls him onto his lap, holding him there until he stops trying to get away and curls up on Louis’ leg instead. When Louis pets the line of his back he even starts to purr, so Louis figures he can’t be too bothered about not being allowed to play in the ash and glowing embers.

When Harry comes back with two mugs and a pot of tea, he brings UNO with him.

“I thought we might want to keep busy while we’re waiting,” he says, holding the deck of cards up.

“Good thinking,” Louis says. “You owe me a rematch anyway.”

Harry grins and sits down on the floor next to Louis, crossing his legs. Louis tries to swivel around to be able to face him without jostling Toothless, who has started to doze on his lap. The cat blinks his eyes open and lifts his head briefly, but lies back down as soon as Louis is settled, huffing a little kitten sigh and going back to sleep. Louis has always thought of himself as more of a dog person, but there is something quite adorable about cats, he supposes.

“Sorry to dash your hopes, but you’re definitely not winning,” Harry says with a grin and begins shuffling the cards.

“Are you smack talking over UNO?”

“Just stating a fact,” Harry says airily. He’s one of those people who can shuffle cards properly, like you see people do in casinos and films and from the grin of his face he definitely knows that Louis’s watching and just a tad impressed.

“Show-off,” Louis mumbles, schooling his face into an unimpressed expression. Harry isn’t phased, dealing them seven cards each with far more gravitas than the game warrants. In return Louis pours tea and takes a considering sip before he even picks up his cards. Two can play this game.

“Youngest player starts,” Louis says and makes a grand sweeping gesture towards the deck of cards. Harry rolls his eyes the exact way he had done when they’d first played and Louis had teased him for being two years younger for no other reason than that he could. Between the combined additions of family rules to the game (a zero means they switch cards, a seven means they both draw one from the deck, two identical cards can be played at the same time, a draw-4 can be played on top of a draw-2 but not the other way around, a three means they have to show each other all cards of that colour on their hand) each single game takes quite a long time. And yet, even though every game feels balanced, Harry wins every single one of them.

“You’ve got to be cheating,” Louis says as Harry puts his last card down for the third time, while Louis still has six cards in his hand.

Harry just laughs.

“It’s just luck of the draw,” he says.

“Or witchcraft,” Louis retorts, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Harry shakes his head and takes Louis’ cards from him, shuffling again.

“You’ve caught me. Toothless is no ordinary cat. He can speak to me,” he deadpans.

Louis looks down at the sleeping bundle of fur in his lap and then back up at Harry, nodding gravely.

“I knew something was shifty about that cat. And not just the horrendous name.”

“It’s a cute film!” Harry protests. “It’s about being yourself and seeing the good in others and not letting fear and prejudice rule you and make you a dick.”

“They could’ve made all those points while being at least slightly more accurate about dragons!” Louis insists. “I could have forgiven the whole dragon rider thing - which, by the way, dragons do generally not appreciate being ridden - because I get why everyone would want that if they’d at least been a bit more accurate about all the rest.”

Harry chuckles at him and deals the cards.

“You’re really not a fan, are you.”

“No. I’m really not,” Louis says with a sheepish sigh and picks up his cards. “I mean, wouldn’t it bother you if there were a wildly popular franchise about chefs where every amazing meal the protagonist makes literally doesn’t work like that?”

Harry winces.

“Probably, yeah,” he allows and then nods down at the deck of cards. “Loser gets to start the game.”

Louis mock glares at him and plays his first card.

At least in this game Harry only beats him by one card.

“I give up,” Louis says, throwing his remaining card down and dramatically falling onto this back.

“Do you?” Harry asks, teasing. He’s clearly exhausted, Louis can hear it in every words he says. He swayed forward a couple times during their last game as if he was about to fall asleep sitting up. Louis would not put it past him. Frankly, he’s impressed that Harry’s still conscious at all.

“Actually,” Louis says, sitting back up. “I really need the loo.”

He picks Toothless up and deposits him in Harry’s lap and then climbs to his feet unsteadily. There are pins and needles running up and down his legs from keeping them folded - and still - for the past two hours and he shakes them out on the way to the loo. Now that he’s up, he’s going to change into his pajama pants as well. He’s had enough of skinny jeans for now.

When he comes back to the parlour Harry’s lying on the floor on his back, eyes shut, Toothless curled up on his chest. He blinks his eyes open when he hears Louis’ steps though.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough from five minutes of disuse like he actually just woke up.

“Tired?” Louis asks.

“Just resting,” Harry insists. “You did say you were giving up.”

“I did and I meant it,” Louis says, looking over to his tablet on the loveseat. “I need to look some things up actually.”

Harry makes a vague gesture with his hand before it drops back down to lie on the floor.

“Go ‘head,” he says.

Louis smiles to himself and pulls his feet up onto the loveseat to rest his tablet against his bent legs. He’s fairy certain if he’s quiet for the next ten minutes Harry will fall asleep.

Accessing the Bestiary through his remote login takes even longer than it does when he’s in the office, but Louis resists the urge to pour himself another cup of tea, not wanting to disturb Harry’s regular breathing until he’s sure sure he’s fallen asleep. So he watches the logo of the entwined phoenix, dragon and pegasus fill up again and again and again, trying not to let it lull himself to sleep.

“When I was still in London,” Harry suddenly says into the silence, startling Louis out of his meditative staring at the logo, “I had a bit of a breakdown. That’s why I moved here.”

Louis swallows.

“Every student at the school I went to gets assigned to a working chef and it’s recommended that you stay on as an apprentice for a year after you’re done with school, so I did that. I learned how to bake during that time as well. Afterwards the restaurant I’d been apprenticed at hired me as a commis. A junior cook.”

Louis chances a glance over at Harry, but he’s still got his eyes closed and Toothless curled up on his chest, moving up and down with the slow breaths Harry takes.

“I did that for a year and they must’ve thought I did well ‘cause when one of the chefs de partie quit, they asked me take the position. I was only twenty-one then and there were plenty other people in that kitchen who’d worked there for longer and were older and more experienced than I was. They didn’t give me any of the big stations at first so it was fine, but they moved me up when another one went on paternal leave for a year two years later.”

The Bestiary’s still loading, but Louis’s not looking.

“There were these two older guys who were especially unhappy about that. One of them had worked the station for as long as I’d been with the restaurant, but the other one had only started two years before that. Still, I guess they thought they were due the promotion. Or maybe they just didn’t like working for someone so much younger than them,” Harry says and sighs. He rolls his head over a bit and blinks his eyes open, looking at Louis briefly as if to gauge his reaction before he faces the ceiling again and closes his eyes.

“They didn’t follow my instructions if they thought they knew better and sometimes flat out refused to do what I said. It was basically a permanent struggle. I didn’t really know what to do about it and didn’t really tell anyone either, because I thought they’d fire or demote me if they knew I couldn’t handle the position. It was a pretty shit year.”

Harry takes a deep breath and balls a hand into a fist briefly before releasing it again.

“I did meet Niall at one of Ed’s shows that year though. That was pretty good,” Harry goes on, lips moving into something that might in the right light be considered the beginning of a smile.

“He had no idea about working as a chef, of course, but he kept telling me not to take any crap and to talk to someone about it and that otherwise I’d start to hate cooking. It was a bit late for that, but then the restaurant decided to franchise and they asked me to go work at the new location as sous-chef. I couldn’t handle the thought of even more responsibility, even if I was going to work with a completely new team. I was only twenty-four then and convinced the new team was going to hate me as well and sort of... broke down and had a cry on my boss, which was... sub-ideal.”

Louis grimaces in sympathy and absently taps the screen of his tablet to stop it from going into standby mode.

“So I quit instead of taking the promotion and spent a few months wallowing and freaking out and taking baking classes for something productive to do. My mum wanted me to come back home and my sister kept telling me to get counselling but I just wanted to prove to myself that I could get through it by myself. I did go see a therapist a couple times in the end. And then Niall told me that Barbara’s parents weren’t sure what to do with the bakery so I packed up and moved here.”

Louis lets Harry’s words settle for a few moments, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. At twenty-three he was writing his master thesis. It was stressful, sure, but definitely not to the level of needing counselling afterwards. He got lucky with his workplace as well and can’t quite imagine what it must be like to dread going into work everyday the way an experience like Harry’s must make you.

“‘m sorry,” he says.

Harry sighs and looks back over with a tired smile.

“Thanks,” he says and then looks over the fireplace. “Wouldn’t have found Braith if I’d stayed in London.”

Louis huffs an amused breath.

“Good priorities,” he says.

Harry turns his face back up towards the ceiling with his eyes closed and a small smile pulling at his lips. Louis turns back to his tablet and pulls up the entries on the Jaculus and the Cerastes. He should at least have a faint idea of what those look like freshly hatched before one possibly crawls out of that egg in the near future.

The next time he looks up Harry’s face is slack with sleep. He looks a lot younger like that, or maybe it’s just that he told Louis that story and now he’s still stuck thinking about Harry in his early twenties.

Louis sets his tablet down and carefully tiptoes around Harry to grab one of the thin fleece blankets from the dresser in his room, spreading it over Harry’s legs when he gets back, before checking on the egg again. The tapping and scratching has gotten a bit more frequent now, which is a good sign at least. There aren’t any cracking sounds that indicate the shell is starting to break yet, but Louis adds a few more pieces of wood anyway. Once it does hatch, they’re going to need more heat to keep it warm in the open. Done with that, Louis goes back to the loveseat and lets Harry sleep.

By the time Harry stirs again, it’s almost half four and the sky outside is starting to turn the faintest hint of grey. Louis drank the entire pot of tea over the course of the past hours and is feeling a peculiar mixture of hyped up and really, really tired.

“How long was I asleep?” Harry asks and then clears his throat against the roughness in his voice.

“A little under three hours,” Louis says. “You didn’t miss anything, don’t worry.”

“Guess I needed that,” Harry says with a small smile. Toothless has buggered off some time ago, so Harry pushes himself up and shuffles over to where Louis is just about to listen into the egg with the stethoscope again.

“Any new developments?” Harry asks.

“Let’s see, shall we?” Louis says and puts in the earpieces. The tapping and scratching is definitely getting louder and he can even make out where it’s concentrated in one place now. He grins over at Harry and then taps the egg lightly where the baby is scratching on the other side of the eggshell.

“It’s trying to get out here,” he says and takes off the stethoscope. “It probably won’t be long.”

Harry grins and holds his hand out for the stethoscope. Louis hands it over and then goes to fetch the hatching kit, taking out the over-elbow gloves and handing them to Harry. Harry looks a bit puzzled but takes them.

“What do I do with these?”

“Put them on as soon as it starts breaking through.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’ve seen and done this before,” Louis says. “Unless you’d rather not?”

“No, no, I do. Thanks,” Harry says.

“Good. D’you have some sort of tub or something? Or a really big bowl?” Louis asks next.

“I’ve got the tub I use for laundry? And a plastic bucket I use for cleaning,” Harry says.

Louis nods to himself and gets to his feet. Those will do.

“Bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back then,” Louis says and goes to fetch them. He fills the bucket with hot water halfway and finds a few rags he assumes Harry also uses for cleaning, taking one of those along.

“What are those for then?” Harry asks when he comes back, setting everything down by the fireplace.

“The water’s for cleaning off the rest of the fluids, the rag’s to dry it off - if it’s a dragon it shouldn’t be wet long when it’s so young. The other one’s for preparing the food,” Louis explains and grabs one of the bags of food, pouring a third of it out into the tub. It’s a bit big, but Louis didn’t want to use any of Harry’s fancy cooking ware for this. He uses his empty tea mug to scoop water out of the bucket onto the dried food pellets, watching them soak it up and going softer.

“That does not look particularly tasty,” Harry comments. Personally Louis thinks it smells a lot worse than it looks.

“Good thing it’s not for you then,” Louis grins and then pulls the rest of the box over to where Harry’s sitting in front of the fireplace, sitting down beside him.

“So, earlier you mentioned you met Niall at one of ‘Ed’s’ shows. Did you mean Ed Sheeran?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, I love his stuff” Harry says with a smile. “Niall and Barbara had come to London to see one of the shows for an anniversary.”

“He’s sick,” Louis agrees. “Which show was it? Maybe I was there too.”

“Spring twenty-seventeen. O2 arena, I think,” Harry says.

“Pretty sure I was at that one too. I went with a mate of mine who met his fiancée there,” Louis grins.

“No way! Ed’ll love that,” Harry says and then grimaces a bit when Louis frowns and curiously tilts his head.

“We’re, um. Friends. Ed and I,” Harry says with a sheepish shrug.

“Seriously?” Louis asks. He can’t help feeling vaguely impressed.

“Yeah, we met just before he got signed. I used to sneak him food from the school kitchen,” Harry says. He’s grinning a bit mischievously and Louis’s not entirely sure whether Harry really had to sneak the food out or his teachers just turned a blind eye. He seems like the kind of person who got away with a lot just because his teachers liked him.

“Wait,” Louis says then, as he remembers some of the interviews he’s heard Ed Sheeran give. “Are you the chef friend? The one who got into a jam making competition with Taylor Swift?”

Harry laughs and covers his face with his hands, which is really all the answer Louis needs, even before Harry peeks out through his fingers and shrugs again.

“Her strawberry jam really _is_ very good,” he says.

In some way Louis is of course aware that even people like Taylor Swift or Ed Sheeran are just human beings, but it’s quite something else to be talking to someone who gets into jam making competitions with them.

“Your life is very weird,” Louis says.

“Last week you were trying to figure out whether a dragon had illegally emigrated to France, but my life is weird?” Harry shoots back.

“You have jam making competitions with Taylor Swift! She’s won, like, a trillion Grammys,” Louis points out.

“She’s very nice,” Harry says. “And anyway, it was only the once.”

“Oh, well, if it was only once...” Louis says and sways to the side to bump his shoulder against Harry’s.

“You’re just jealous,” Harry teases.

“I don’t even know how to make jam,” Louis says.

“Well, if she ever wants a rematch, you’re welcome to assist me,” Harry says with a grin.

“Thank you,” Louis says with a laugh. “That’s very gracious of you.”

“I try,” Harry quips

Louis grins, but doesn’t say anything back and they both turn back towards the egg. The food pellets have soaked up almost all the water when Louis looks over at them and the water in the bucket is still warm. The anticipation in Louis’ belly is pulling tighter and tighter the longer this waiting lasts and it’s making him fidgety.

Just as he’s contemplating listening in on the egg again there’s a decidedly louder crack and the egg wobbles a bit.

“Did you see that?” Harry asks excitedly, leaning forward.

“I did see that,” Louis says, digging his nails into the heel of his palm and taking a steadying breath.

Another wobble, another crack.

Harry fidgets a bit next to him, like he’s sitting in a pile of nettles. Louis sympathises.

At the third clearly audible crack, the eggshell breaks open and a little claw peeks out into the open.

“Oh my god,” Harry whispers and briefly glances at Louis with wide, bright eyes, before he pulls on the gloves and reaches out to gently pet the claw. It’s pulled back immediately.

“Hi, Braith,” Harry says, leaning forward into the fireplace. “Are you coming out?”

Louis fidgets a bit himself. He half wants to pull Harry back, but he’s mostly got his arm stretched out towards the egg and is keeping his face a safe distance back. He’s got the gloves on, and there’s only one little crack in the shell as of now anyway. Still, Louis takes the stunner from the box and keeps his finger hovering over the button, just in case.

There’s another crunching sound as two claws poke out through the little crack in the shell, scrabbling at the outside and trying to widen the crack. Harry’s watching it all raptly and Louis alternates in watching the egg and Harry’s fascinated expression. It’s got a bit of a kid seeing a Christmas tree all lit up.

Harry taps at the claws gently, but doesn’t help break down the eggshell, obviously remembering what Louis had said earlier. By the time a small foot or arm is poking out of the shell it doesn’t pull back at the touch anymore.

“Hi, baby,” Harry says and then leans back a bit, as if giving the baby more room to climb out of the egg.

Once the second limb breaks through it becomes clear that this one is hatching legs first, which is always a bit funny to watch, since they tend to try to stand while the rest of their body is still stuck inside the egg. Needless to say, it doesn’t usually tend to work all that well. The legs are also equally as inconclusive a hint about the thing’s species as the egg pattern had been. They’re covered in a milky, grey film, for one, though that does at least rule out the Cerastes. That one’s embryonic egg fluids are all completely clear. Louis supposes that’s something.

The ashy ground doesn’t exactly make any attempts at standing easier, but when it falls over for the second time, the shell hits one of the embers, which helps along the efforts from the inside and the egg cracks almost neatly in two.

Four legs, two wings. Not a jaculus.

Louis grins to himself.

“Oh, wow,” Harry whispers and then briefly looks at Louis before looking back at the baby dragon in his fireplace. “Can I touch her?”

“Yeah, hang on,” Louis says and rips open the package for the cleaning towelette. As Louis understands it, it’s got some sort of antibacterial property the mother’s saliva would provide if she were to lick the baby clean. He dunks it into the water and squeezes the excess water out before handing it to Harry.

“Wipe it off with this,” he says. “Carefully. And don’t let it get away. It’s probably going to be skittish.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry says and shuffles closer to the fireplace on his knees.

“Hi, Braith. Welcome to Wales,” he whispers at the dragon and carefully reaches out the hand that’s not holding the towelette. The dragon baby cautiously watches the hand moving towards it, ducking away from it a little, instinctively aware that the thing it should be seeing first thing in the world is not a large kevlar reinforced glove. Still, it doesn’t spook half as much as Louis expected it to.

Harry tentatively runs a finger along the dragon’s spine, all the while murmuring to it about how it’s being good and taken care of. Louis can only stare. This is... going so much more smoothly than he had expected it to. His entire body is still coiled tight, prepared to jump up and throw himself at a baby dragon to keep it from running away.

“I’m going to clean you off now so we can have a look at your pretty scales, okay?” Harry says to the dragon and then equally slowly lifts the towelette towards the dragon. It backs away a little again, but settles when Harry pets along its spine again, as if it’s already gotten used to that touch.

Louis watches with bated breath as Harry cleans first the back and the flanks, then the neck, limbs and tail and finally wings and face.

“Look at you,” Harry murmurs. “You’re so pretty.”

The scales are a deep, muted green, like someone lay a grey filter over a grassy hill and the eyes it blinks curiously at Harry and occasionally over at Louis are a dark dusty grey. It really is pretty.

“Okay, now try drying it off a bit,” Louis says and hands Harry the rag he brought. “Dragon babies get cold really easily.”

“Don’t call her ‘it’, her name’s Braith” Harry says, but does as Louis tells him to, gently wiping away the moisture he’d left on the baby dragon’s scales.

“How would you know if it’s a girl?” Louis asks a bit exasperatedly. Now that everything seems to be going smoothly, the adrenaline is fading a bit and he’s starting to realise how tired he really is.

“Look at how pretty she is,” Harry says.

“There are plenty pretty boys, Harry. Don’t be sexist,” Louis reprimands. Harry just glances over at Louis and waggles his eyebrows a bit before turning back to the dragon.

Once dried, the dragon happily staggers in a circle and cosies up to the brightest glowing ember, stretching its wings out to their full (if still small) wingspan once before settling down. Harry is entranced.

“You can try feeding it now,” Louis says and pulls the tub of food closer.

Harry nods absently and fishes one of the now soft food pellets out of the tub.

“Hey, little one. You hungry?” he asks and dangles the soggy piece of nutrition in front of the dragon’s snout. The dragon tilts its head to each side, sniffs at the thing that suddenly appeared in front of its face and then snaps it up in one fast motion, gulping it down whole. Harry and Louis are both still as the dragon’s throat works to push it down, waiting for any sort of reaction.

The baby dragon immediately begins poking its head in between Harry’s fingers, looking for more. Harry laughs and picks up another few pellets, letting the baby dragon snap for those as well.

Louis relaxes his hand on the stunner, resting both on his thigh and watches Harry feed the baby dragon until its eyes are starting to droop and it eventually curls its long neck up to tuck its face against its belly, back pressed against the glowing ember. It sneezes a couple times against the ash everywhere and Louis can’t suppress a grin as it watches its belly move erratically with every sneeze and forced exhale.

“It’s part Wobblebelly,” he says quietly. Harry looks over at him shortly and grins.

Eventually the baby settles down and seems to fall asleep.

“That’s normal,” Louis says before Harry can ask. “Hatching’s quite exhausting. And it did just eat all that.”

“Braith,” Harry insists as he leans back, still staring at the dragon.

“Put the cage back over _Braith_ ,” Louis says.

“But she’s asleep. She won’t do anything,” Harry says.

“She could wake up any moment. And you probably don’t want Toothless climbing in and scaring her either, do you?” Louis says.

Harry pulls a face and carefully puts the cage over the baby dragon, making sure she lies in the center of it and has as much room to move as possible. When he leans back and pulls the gloves off and watches as Louis replaces the fireguard in front of the fireplace he has that look on his face that newly made parents often do; a little bit terrified and a lot amazed.

“Oh my god,” he says softly, like he can’t believe that actually just happened. Louis can understand where he’s coming from. It’s absolutely impressive every time he sees it and he can still remember the pure marvel he felt when he saw it for the first time.

“You did really well,” Louis says, putting a hand on Harry’s thigh and looking over at him. The sun’s been coming up more and more while they were busy watching a baby dragon hatch, and the first few rays shine in through the window and catch the edge of Harry’s hair, and the line of his cheek, lighting him up with a soft golden glow. It’s a bit ridiculous, Louis thinks, that he’s expected to deal with that as well as a baby dragon after he’s been awake for almost twenty-four hours.

“Thanks,” Harry says softly and lets his head fall forward, resting his forehead against Louis’ shoulder. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

He covers Louis’ hand on his thigh with one of his own, and Louis bites down on the inside of his lower lip, trying not to let his entire body go stiff at the contact. Harry’s hand is warm and big enough to cover his hand entirely and Louis does definitely not have any feelings about that sort of thing. The way his cheeks flush is just a sign of exhaustion, nothing else.

“That did just happen. Congratulations on your first dragon baby,” Louis says, trying to infuse his soft voice with a little bit of mirth at least. He lifts his other hand to pat Harry on the back but ends up resting it there more than anything before he pulls it back again.

“Didn’t think my first baby would be a dragon to be honest,” Harry says into Louis shoulder.

“It can only get better from here,” Louis assures him.

Harry laughs a bit, and when he lifts his head his face is entirely too close to Louis’ for him not to notice the slow way his eyes sweep shut and back open, the curl of his eyelashes casting an almost dramatic shadow on the side of Harry’s face that is still lit up with the morning sun. He can just make Harry’s smile out at the edge of his field of vision, until Harry’s gaze falls down to Louis’ lips just briefly, just once, and Louis can’t help that his own eyes do the same as if in answer to it. Harry’s smile slips off his face and Louis’ gaze locks with Harry’s, his breath stuttering to a halt as Harry’s eyes fall shut again and he leans forward just enough for the side of his nose to brush against Louis’. Louis can feel the heat of Harry’s breath wash over his lips and how his own lips fall open to welcome it.

His hand on Harry’s thigh is going clammy. So is Harry’s on top of his.

Louis lets his eyes fall shut and pushes back gently, traces the tip of his nose along the side of Harry’s, his lips brushing against where Harry’s lips meet his cheeks more an accident than on purpose. The fingers of Harry’s hand curl around Louis’ on his thigh and Louis can feel Harry’s breath halt for a moment and the softness of his lips touch Louis’ jaw just faintly. The fingers of Harry’s second hand brush against the skin of Louis’ face beside his lips. Louis feels as if someone pressed mute on the world and all his focus narrows down on the heat glowing at the back of his neck and the centre of his belly and radiating off Harry.

Harry turns his face into Louis, brushing his nose along Louis’ cheek and over the bridge of his nose to the other side, pushing forwards a little bit and lining his lips up with Louis’. His fingers are still curled around Louis’ and softly pressed to his cheek. It’s like there’s a hook right beneath Louis’ breastbone and something is tugging at him to meet Harry, to turn into him. Harry’s breath tingles where it’s washing over Louis’ lips.

The world is paused and Louis hears his blood buzz in his ears, white static to the suspended state he feels, and then he blinks his eyes open and leans back.

Harry pokes out the tip of his tongue, licking his lips as if looking for a phantom touch that never happened, eyes clear and steady on Louis’. Louis resists the urge to copy the movement and swallows heavily instead. Harry’s not saying anything and Louis can’t think of even just a single word. The hand Harry had by Louis’ cheek drops and he gives Louis’ other a brief squeeze before pulling it away. Harry smiles softly and Louis smiles back.

“You should sleep a bit more,” he tries to say, but his voice comes out like a scratchy whisper and the moment still feels too fragile to clear his throat. His cheeks run hot and he takes his hand off Harry’s thigh.

“So should you,” Harry says quietly.

“I need to do a write up for PAMC. I’ll wake you in a bit and you can take over,” Louis says.

Harry takes a deep breath and sighs but then nods. He picks up the blanket Louis had covered him with earlier and goes to curl up on the loveseat, long legs tucked up against his chest and his head pillowed on a folded arm. Louis leans back against the loveseat by Harry’s calves, leaning his tablet against his propped up legs. Harry’s legs are a strangely noticeable presence behind him and the hair at the back of his neck stands up. He ignores it.

“Goodnight,” Harry says.

Louis smiles down at his tablet and pulls up an empty document.

“Goodnight.”

* * *

Louis is woken by the shrill sound of his phone ringing and someone shaking his arm. He doesn’t think he’s been asleep all that long.

“Louis. Louis, I’m sorry but you’re phone’s been ringing,” Harry says, hand still on Louis’ arm.

Louis nods dazedly and tries to force his eyes open so he can locate the damn thing.

“Where...?” he asks, clearing his throat against the thick layer of sleep.

Harry presses the phone into his hand and Louis doesn’t manage to catch the name on the display before he swipes his finger over it to accept the call.

“Tomlinson?” he says.

“Tommo, hi. Payne,” Payne says on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, hi,” Louis says, rubbing a hand over his face and slapping at his own cheek to wake himself up.

“Bad time?” Payne asks.

“No, no, it’s alright. Just been a long night,” Louis says.

“Jesus, were you up all night waiting for the hatch?”

“Yeah. Did you get my email then?”

“I just came in; read it first thing,” Payne says. “You think it’s part Wobblebelly?”

“It did the thing,” Louis says, which isn’t very articulate, but the details are in the write up he sent and he thinks he can be forgiven. Judging by the state of the sunlight filtering into the room he hasn’t been asleep for more than an hour.

“What are the scales like? You think you can send me a photo?” Payne asks.

Louis nods, says “sure, hang on”, when he remembers Payne can’t see him and tries to sit up. Harry’s on the floor by the loveseat, watching him like he’s worried Louis might fall over if he tries to move too much. Judging by the headrush Louis gets as he sits up fully it’s not entirely out of the question.

“What do you need?” Harry asks quietly.

Louis points at his tablet and then the fireplace, mouthing ‘photo’. Harry nods and grabs the tablet, pressing a button to wake it up and swiping his hand over it to unlock it when asked. He holds it up to Louis to type in the number code and then takes it back, finger circling over the display until he finds the camera option. He has to put it down to set the fireguard to the side but leaves the cage where it is even without Louis prompting him to.

“You got it?” Payne asks.

“Just a second,” Louis says, while Harry lifts the tablet and takes a few photos of the sleeping dragon and then hands the tablet over.

“Okay, I got it. I’m mailing you them now,” Louis says down the phone and mouths ‘thank you’ at Harry before sending off the photos.

“God bless email,” Payne mutters at the other end of the line and Louis can hear the faint clicking noise of a regular mouse.

“Huh. Cool colour,” Payne says. “Darker than the Wobblebelly, but it’s definitely in line with the usual green.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

“Eyes?” Payne asks.

“Dark grey.”

“Huh,” Payne says again.

“D’you have an idea what it is?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, we, uh, we have an Irish Ironscale here that we thought was pregnant but then we couldn’t find the egg and she was fine so we dismissed it.”

“You think it’s an Ironscale Wobblebelly hybrid?” Louis asks, slightly disbelieving. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. He points a finger over his shoulder at the baby dragon sleeping behind him. Louis shrugs and nods.

The Irish Ironscale is generally a rather large dragon with hard, dark scales (hence the name), whereas the typical Welsh Wobblebelly is bright green and small enough to blend into the grassland that is so typical for Wales.

“It’s possible,” Payne says. It is, technically, possible. And it’d make sense, given the dark muted green and the dark eyes.

“Can you bring it in?” Payne asks.

“Not at the moment,” Louis says. “I need to catch some sleep first.”

“How about the afternoon?” Payne asks. “I’d send someone but one of our vets is on a fiel dtrip today and I need the other one here looking after everything."

“Yeah, sure. Just let me rest a bit first.”

“Of course. We don’t want you to crash,” Payne teases. Louis is pretty sure a crash would be a distinct possibility if he tried to drive now. He’s still having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“I’ll call you when I’m getting ready to leave?” Louis suggests. Harry’s brow furrows for a moment before he gets what’s happening and his face falls. Louis’ toes curl and he feels his face slip into a sympathetic grimace even as he thinks that Harry must have known this was bound to happen sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, works for me. I’m out of here by six, so try to make it before then,” Payne says.

“Will do, Payno. See you later,” Louis.

“Later, Tommo,” Payne says and hangs up.

Louis lowers the phone and wipes his free hand over his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, catching Harry’s eyes. “But you knew you couldn’t keep her.”

Harry nods and smiles a wry smile.

“Can I come with you when you take her to Abergavenny?” he asks.

“Of course, yeah,” Louis says. “Has she been asleep this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a nod.

“Okay,” Louis says, nodding to himself. “That’s good. She should be asleep for another few hours, so we can probably both get some more sleep. Toothless can’t get to her and she’s too weak to get out of that cage. At least without causing a massive ruckus.”

“Alright,” Harry says. “I, um, I have a bad back, so I’ll go to bed, actually, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Go. Sleep,” Louis says.

Harry smiles and gets up from the floor, hesitating for a moment before giving Louis another smile and turning around, leaving for his room. Louis sinks back into the loveseat, curling up again. He’s asleep before he fully sets the phone down.

The second time he wakes that day Harry is shaking him again, but the morning sun has come and gone.

“Hey,” Harry says softly.

“Hey. What time is it?” Louis asks, wiping sleep from his eyes and trying to sit up slowly.

“It’s just about two. I thought we should eat before we leave, so I made us some peas and gravy to go with the leftover meat pasties.”

Louis huffs a laugh.

“You’re perfect,” he says and flushes a bit when he catches Harry’s surprised expression.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, maybe,” Harry says and then holds out a hand to help Louis up.

Harry made another pot of tea as well and while Louis doesn’t usually drink it for lunch, it helps in waking him up further. The re-heated pasties taste almost better on the second day and as opposed to their other meals together, this one is a quiet one. Given the sleep deficit they’re both trying to navigate Louis can’t say he’s surprised by it.

They lock Toothless in Harry’s room as a precaution while Louis tries to assemble the travelling cage as quickly as possible and Harry is holding a squirming Braith in his gloved hands. He’s murmuring nonsense to her in that soothing tone he used on her earlier and Louis could swear she’s turning her head to listen to him. This whole “animals, kids and old ladies just like him” thing that Harry has going on is almost a bit creepy at this point.

Harry insists on carrying Braith down to the car himself, so Louis packs the rest back into the cardboard box - thankful they didn’t need any of the first aid stuff or the stunner - while Harry sticks a finger past the bars into Braith’s cage and talks to her as they wait for Louis to be done. Louis would tell him not to taunt the poor thing if she weren’t rubbing her head against the finger as if she has already decided to adopt this strange not-dragon-looking creature as her mother.

Its mother. Christ. Louis is completely slipping up with this whole “don’t get too attached” thing. He usually has such a good handle on that.

He picks the eggshell out of the fireplace and puts the pieces in the box as well. They’ll probably want to look at it over at PAMC. Before he can think about it too much, he swipes one of the smaller pieces, stuffing it deep into the pocket of his joggers.

“I’m gonna go put some fresh clothes on and let Toothless out of your room and then we can go, yeah?” he says, getting up from his crouch before the fireplace and dusting his hands off.

“Sure. I’ll wait out back,” Harry says and lifts the cage up by the ring attached to the top. Louis swallows and hopes he didn’t do anything wrong when screwing it together. He’s not sure how something that’s as easy to build as IKEA furniture can cage a dragon, but he supposes they did just feed her, _it_ , and with any luck it’ll be asleep all the way anyway.

He hurries in getting changed anyway, stuffing the eggshell down into his weekender bag before he grabs his phone and wallet, stuffing both down his jeans pockets. He should probably have taken a shower, but there’s no time for it and a quick sniff test convinces him he’s still okay to go out in public and interact with other people. Toothless is already scratching at the door and zooms past Louis as soon as he opens the door. Louis sees him trot into the kitchen, but squeezes out through the front door quickly anyway, to make sure he can’t try to follow. On the way down the stairs he pulls his phone back out and rings Payne.

“Tommo. You leaving?” Payne greets him.

“Yeah, just about to. Is that alright for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll have them prep the vet station downstairs,” Payne says.

“Alright. See you in a bit,” Louis says and hangs up after Payne’s confirmation.

Harry throws him the key to lock up and then to Louis’ surprise gets in on the passenger side of his car.

“I’m still a bit knackered,” he says when Louis climbs into the driver’s seat. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Louis says. He has to adjust the seat and the mirrors, legs not as long as Harry’s, and he hasn’t driven a car this big in a while, but it’s nothing that properly phases him and five minutes later they’re en route to Abergavenny. Fifteen minutes into the drive Harry has dozed off. Louis turns the radio down, humming along to the Ed Sheeran song that comes on with a newfound appreciation.

This time it’s his turn to shake Harry awake when he’s parked firmly on PAMC’s car park.

“We there?” Harry asks, blinking awake and sitting up in his car seat.

“Yeah. You wanna take the dragon?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry says with a smile. He stretches and shakes out his arms and legs once he’s climbed out of the car and then pulls the gloves back on, lifting the cage from the backseat.

“Hey, Braith, we’re going to see your new home now,” he says.

“The parents might even be here,” Louis says, grabbing the cardboard box of borrowed stuff and then locking the car, pocketing the key.

“Really?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. Payne reckons the egg came from here.”

“They lost a dragon egg? That’s a bit embarrassing, innit,” Harry comments mildly. Louis snorts an amused breath.

“Bit, yeah,” he agrees.

Payne comes out to meet them this time.

“Tommo!” he calls across the car park to them, waving his arm as if Louis could have trouble finding him when they’re the only three people out here.

“Liam Payne, Harry Styles,” Louis introduces them as soon as they’re close enough and watches Payne shake Harry’s hand with a friendly smile.

“Are you the bloke who found the egg then?” Payne asks.

“That’d be me,” Harry says. “Are you the one who lost it?”

Louis shoots him a sideways look, but Payne takes it in good humour and laughs.

“Afraid that’s us, yeah,” Payne says and bends to look at the dragon that’s clearly not comfortable in the cage or the new surroundings, given how it backed up towards Harry’s body.

“A little beauty,” he comments and straightens back up. “We’ll take it right in to see the vet.”

Payne gestures them to follow him and leads them through a door in the fence to the Park with a warning sign bolted to it - Dragon Habitat! Turn Around! - and around the building. They pass by some wide open, roofed spaces like some sort of stable where the vets can probably look after the dragons that are too big to bring inside. Harry is looking around with barely concealed wonder. even though he’s holding the cage close like he’s still not a big fan of having to let go of it.

They’re greeted enthusiastically by a vet in her mid forties and an assistant as soon as they make it inside.

“Is that the little patient? Oh, aren’t you gorgeous,” she coos, grabbing the cage from Harry and setting it down on the counter.

“Natalie, this is Louis Tomlinson from PAMC in London and Harry Styles who found our missing egg,” Liam introduces them. Natalie shakes their hands briefly.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” she says.

“This’ll take a while, you don’t have to stay,” she adds and then turns her back to them in a clear dismissal. The assistant comes over to take the eggshell out of the box Louis is still lugging around, but doesn’t pay them any more attention. Louis exchanges a surprised look with Harry, while Payne laughs the exchange off. It seems Natalie is usually only focussed on her patients.

“C’mon, Tommo. We need to get this over to one of the labs, so they can check it out,” Payne says, tapping the box. Harry seems torn between asking the vet to stay and following the two of them.

“Hey, Payne, do you have one of those patronage forms lying around? Harry might be interested,” Louis says, getting Payne’s and Harry’s attention.

“Really?” Payne turns to Harry to ask.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Do I get to name it if I do?”

Payne laughs.

“Sure, yeah,” he says. “If you come with us, I’ll grab you a form as soon as we’ve dropped this off.”

“Alright,” Harry says and follows them out of the clinic deeper into the building to leave the kits and stunner with one of the lab techs to be tested before they’re put back in storage.

“Everything go smoothly?” Payne asks as the lab tech unpacks the still sealed first aid and anti-venom kits.

“Yeah, Harry was a great help,” Louis says. “Some sort of dragon whisperer.”

“I just did what you told me to,” Harry says, dismissing Louis with a roll of his eyes, but the tips of his ears have gone just the faintest bit red.

“You want a job?” Payne jokes. “We’ve got an opening for dragon whisperer.”

Harry laughs, but shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m busy enough as it is.”

“Fair enough,” Payne says, signing off on the form the lab tech hands him and then waving at Louis and Harry to follow him once more.

“We should have some patronage forms at the lobby,” he explains. “Basically it just means that the money you donate will be used on the dragon you claim patronage for as a priority and anything else afterwards. That’s really the only difference to a regular donation.”

Harry nods along with the explanation, seemingly pleased.

“I already donate anyway, can I just sort of... turn that into a patronage?” he asks.

“Like, convert it, you mean?” Payne asks, holding the door to the lobby open for them. Harry nods at him.

“Don’t think so, no. You’ll have to cancel the other thing and sign a new form for this. Don’t ask me why, there’s some bureaucratic reason for it.”

Harry shrugs it off with a grin.

“Fair enough,” he says.

“Hey, Josh!” Payne calls across the lobby. “Get me one of the patronage forms, will you?”

Josh looks up at them and then rolls his chair to the side of the reception counter, pulling a single sheet of paper out and laying it out in front of them, placing a pen next to it.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, do you know if a regular membership can be turned into a patronage?” Payne asks.

Josh pulls an apologetic grimace.

“No. I don’t quite understand why, but you’ll have to cancel membership and start a patronage instead,” he says. “Something about where the money goes, I think.”

“Can you do that?” Payne asks.

“No, only the members can do that. You just have to write an email to support though,” he says, turning to Harry. Harry nods along and reads over the conditions at the bottom of the form with a furrow in his brow before picking up the pen and filling it in.

He leaves the space where the dragon’s information goes blank.

“These two just brought a dragon in,” Payne explains.

“The egg hatched then?” Josh asks.

“Yep. It’s a little beauty as well,” Payne says. “We’ll just take the form back to see Natalie to fill it out before we can file it, yeah?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll be here,” Josh says.

“Can I come visit the dragon?” Harry asks as Payne leads them back to the vet station.

“Yeah, that should be possible. You’ll have to ask Natalie. It’ll be in for regular check-ups and you could probably sit in on those. As soon as it’s out in the Habitat though, like... we can’t just constantly take people dragon watching, you know? But we’ve got events for those sort of things a few times a year,” Payne says.

Harry nods along, not looking entirely happy, but there’s nothing really to be done about the situation. Louis half wants to grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Liam!” Natalie greets them as soon as they step into her clinic again.

“It’s a beautiful baby girl,” she says and Harry grins over at Louis. “We’re just trying to name her. What do you think of-”

“Braith,” Harry interrupts her.

She startles and looks over at him.

“Sorry,” he says.

Payne laughs.

“Harry asked to name her,” he explains.

“Oh,” Natalie says. “Sure, sure, yes. Braith. Well, why not? A bit unusual, but why not.”

She nods at her assistant, who makes a note on a form he’s filling in and just like that she’s officially been named. Harry grins smugly to himself and fills the name in on his own form.

“Are you going to be her patron? Oh, marvellous,” Natalie says. “Give that to Dan, he can fill it out for you.”

Harry hands the form over to the assistant who still hasn’t said a single word to anyone and watches him fill the form out with slightly more attention than it probably requires. It’s not like Harry’s notice know if he’s doing anything wrong.

“Braith here is indeed out missing Ironscale baby, Liam,” Natalie says, while measuring Braith’s wingspan and then dictating it to her assistant. “You’re going to have to do a perimeter check. It’s unlikely she left to lay and then just came back. Explains why she’s been so erratic the past two weeks though, she couldn’t find her baby, poor thing.”

Harry looks up at that and over at Braith, face in a deep frown.

“But she’s back and healthy and Veronica will be over the moon, I’m sure,” Natalie goes on. No wonder she considers ‘Braith’ a strange name for a dragon when she gives them names like ‘Veronica’.

“Could I have a copy of your assessment for London?” Louis asks, before Natalie can go back to measuring Braith’s something or other.

“Of course, yes, you’ll need it for your report, won’t you. I’ll have Dan email you one if you give him your address,” Natalie says and waves Louis off with an imperial gesture. Louis takes the pen and paper Dan hands him and jots down his own and Ben’s email, just to make sure that at least one of them gets a copy.

Dan finishes filling in Harry’s form and hands it back just in time for Natalie to call out a new number to him.

“Thanks, Natalie, we’ll be gone then,” Payne announces and steers Louis and Harry back out the door.

“She’s a bit peculiar, but she’s one of the best magivets I’ve ever seen,” he says once they’re back on the corridor.

“She seems nice,” Harry says with a smile. Louis can’t for the life of him work out if he’s only being polite.

While Harry clears the details of his future patronage with Josh, Payne pulls Louis aside.

“Everything alright?” Louis asks, worrying for a moment that something in that jovial exchange with Natalie earlier was secret code for “oh, no, Braith’s deadly ill” and he’ll be the one to have to break it to Harry.

“What? Yeah, of course,” Payne says. “Just... listen. I’ve been talking to my boss, Paul, about opening the Habitat up to the public more. Have more of those dragon tours and have school classes from all over come in for the kids to learn and such, you know? Only we don’t have anyone here qualified to do that.”

“... alright?”

“Well, Paul was pretty impressed with you last time you were here and you handled this like a dream,” Payne says. “And you have a degree.”

“What are you getting at?” Louis asks, bottom of his belly swooping with suspicion.

“I think he’s going to offer you the job. It’s just a part time thing. Two days every other week,” Payne says. “You can still do your thing down in London and wherever else it takes you the rest of the time.”

“I... don’t know what to say,” Louis says.

“Just think about it, yeah?” Payne says and claps him on the shoulder. “It’d be great to have you around more often. And I know you love being around dragons a bit more permanently.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll think about it, _if_ your boss actually does offer me the job.”

“All I’m asking,” Payne says with a grin and then pulls him in for another hug.

“Listen, I’ve got to get back - finish off a few things and then get into the weekend.”

“Plans with your girl?” Louis teases. Payne grins proudly.

“Yeah, we’re going down to Cardiff for a show tomorrow,” he says.

“Aw, how lovely,” Louis says, earning himself a shove in the arm from Payne.

“One day you’re gonna get yourself in a relationship and you’ll be the soppiest one of us all,” Payne says. Louis laughs but nods.

“That’s probably accurate, actually,” he says. He’s always been a fan of big romantic gestures, he just never found someone who seemed worth the trouble, horrible as it may sound. At least he was always upfront about that with all his past partners.

“What’s probably accurate?” Harry asks, coming to stand with them. He’s got a button with a little PAMC logo that says “I’m a patron” pinned to his chest.

“That Tommo here’s a soppy git,” Payne says.

Harry studies Louis curiously for a moment before he shrugs.

“Nothing wrong with soppy,” he says.

“Nothing indeed,” Payne agrees and then holds out his hand for Harry to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks, Liam,” Harry says, shaking Payne’s hand with a charming smile.

Payne nods at Louis and affects a mock salute before he turns around to get back to his office.

“He seems nice,” Harry comments.

“Yeah, we’ve worked together a couple times before. He’s cool,” Louis says.

“I can drive us back, if you want?” Harry offers. Louis nods and digs the car keys out of his pocket.

“That’d be great. I’m not as fit as I thought I was, it seems.”

“We had an exciting night,” Harry says and waggles his eyebrows. Louis snorts a laugh and then follows him out to the car,

He doesn’t mean to, but as soon as they’re on the road through the Park he dozes off and only wakes when Harry’s turning off the high street.

“Back with us?” Harry asks.

“Christ, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” Louis says.

“It’s alright. I slept on the drive over,” Harry says, pulling into the backlot of the bakery and parking the car neatly next to Louis’ rental.

“I’m going to have to do a bit of digital paperwork for this,” Louis says apologetically as they climb out of the car.

“That’s alright. I’ve got prep work for Wobblebelly for tomorrow to do anyway,” Harry says with a smile.

“Right, of course. You don’t keep by the weekend,” Louis teases.

“I can’t help it if people want cake on the weekend but not on Thursday and Friday!” Harry laughs.

“Excuses, excuses,” Louis says, but turns up the stairs to Harry’s flat, while Harry hovers by the door to the shop.

“I’ll see you for dinner?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. Still got some pasties to eat, don’t we?” Louis says.

Harry grins.

“That we do. Might even have another game of UNO in me.”

“God no, have mercy,” Louis groans but smiles when Harry laughs before he turns away to disappear back into the shop. He stands on the steps staring at the closed shop door for a moment before turning around to climb up to Harry’s flat.

Shit.

Before Louis can fall too deep into ruminations about how fucked exactly he is by the excited fluttering in his belly that making Harry laugh gives him, his phone rings, Zayn’s name lighting up the display.

“Zayn!” he greets. “Have you missed me?”

“Terribly,” Zayn agrees. “Which is why I’ve booked you a train for tomorrow morning at ten fifty-seven from Cardiff back to beautiful London.”

“Oh,” Louis says, stopping in front of the door to the flat for a moment. “How do you...?”

“Abergavenny just sent Ben a report on a baby dragon. Figured that means you’re done,” Zayn explains. Louis can hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice. He can’t help but chuckle.

“You’re scarily efficient when you want to be, Zee.”

“Got to keep you on your toes,” Zayn says. “Pezza wants you for dinner on Saturday or Sunday, by the way. She wants to know all the details about Harreesi and your baby dragon.”

“Yeah, alright,” Louis says, grabbing his tablet from the lounge and carrying it over to the dining room. It’s a lot easier to type on a table. “Tell her to make the curry. She knows the one.”

“The one my mum taught her?”

“That’s the one.”

“You know she makes that for you more often than me?” Zayn teases. Louis snorts a laugh.

“I highly doubt that,” he says. “Give her a cuddle for me though and tell her I’ll see her tomorrow, yeah?”

“Alright. Have a good last night, Lou. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Zayn says and then rings off.

Louis sits down to type up his report, feeling like he should probably be happier than he is to be going home so soon.

* * *

When Louis’ alarm rings at eight he still feels a bit like he got hit by a lorry the day before. He does not envy Harry his four o’clock wakeup call one bit. Despite having offered/threatened more UNO last night, they both chose to have an early bed time after a rather subdued dinner, exhaustion catching up to them both. Louis doesn’t even want to imagine how drained Harry must be feeling, if Louis’s this tired on four more hours of sleep than Harry had.

He climbs out of bed and has a quick shower before starting to pack and checking his email account to make sure his train ticket really has made it safely. Once done with that he strips the bedsheets and folds them neatly at the foot of the bed and hangs the towels Harry had laid out for him over the bars mounted to the bathroom wall. Then he goes to hunt down Toothless and gives him a cuddle, much to the cat’s chagrin. This is why Louis is not primarily a cat person. He needs a pet that will always want to be cuddled when Louis wants to cuddle it.

Harry’ll be down in the shop getting done the last prep work for the day, so Louis doesn’t linger. 

Niall’s just wiping down the two tables when Louis peeks into the shop to check he’s not interrupting anything important.

“Louis!” Niall greets him happily. “H says you’re leaving us today?”

“Yeah. Now, actually. I’ve got to catch a train from Cardiff.”

“Oh. Well that was a short visit,” Niall says. “You’ll have to come back some time.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Louis says and lets Niall pull him into a brief hug despite only having talked to him the once.

“Harry’s in the back,” Niall says when he pulls back.

“Thanks,” Louis says. He puts his bag and jacket by the counter and then knocks on the kitchen door, opening it carefully.

“Harry?” he asks.

Harry’s by the counter on the opposite wall, decked in full chef’s regalia again.

“Just a second,” he says, bent over whatever it is he’s currently working on. Louis hangs back by the door - he knows better than to walk into a kitchen with his street clothes - and waits.

“Are you leaving then?” Harry asks when he turns around.

“Yeah. Need to catch my train,” Louis repeats.

Harry nods and then grabs a brown paper bag from the side of the counter, handing it to Louis when he comes over.

Louis raises a curious eyebrow.

“Lunch?” Harry says, a sheepish smile on his face. “You seemed to like the pasties and the croissants.”

Louis peers inside the bag and finds two pasties and two croissants wrapped in paper napkins.

“Thanks,” he says. “Send me a bill, please. If nothing else, my boss’ll need it for bookkeeping.”

Harry rolls his eyes but nods.

“Alright, alright. You don’t need to guilt trip me into it. If you want to give me money, I’m not going to refuse,” he jokes.

“Your government thanks you for your cooperation,” Louis says solemnly.

Harry grins, but then his expressions shifts into something a little softer.

“So, this is goodbye then?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Louis says.

Harry regards him for a moment and then opens his arms for a hug. Louis smiles and steps forward, expecting a brief pat on the back like the one Niall just gave him. Instead, Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and pulls him flush against his chest, resting his own face against the curve of Louis shoulder. Louis stiffens for a moment, but then lifts his own arms to wrap them around Harry’s shoulders and neck, closing his eyes and letting himself melt into the contact for a brief moment.

“It was very nice to meet you,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ jumper. Louis pulls himself a bit closer, pushing up onto his tiptoes.

“You too,” he says and then lets go, rocking back down onto the soles of his feet.

Harry’s smile looks far more firm than Louis feels. He hopes to god his own covers it up.

“Well then. You’ve a train to catch.”

“I do. Thanks for these,” Louis says, holding the paper bag up and then takes a step back to the door. If he doesn’t leave soon he really is going to miss that train.

“Gladly,” Harry says and leans against the doorframe, watching Louis pick up his bag and jacket, wave at Niall and step out onto the street.

Louis takes a deep breath of the fresh air, decisively does not turn around and goes to get the rental from the backlot. Luckily the journey back to Cardiff proves to be as smooth as the one from it not a week ago was and by ten fifty-five Louis is comfortably sat on the train to London, headphones plugged into his phone, his favourite music playing and the bag with Harry’s lunch on his lap. He eats the two pasties and a croissant on the train, but saves the second one for Sunday breakfast.

For the second time in only a week he comes home to his flat with a bag slung over his shoulder, but this time the emptiness in it seems almost oppressive, pushing in on him from all sides. He sets the bag with the croissant down in the kitchen he hardly ever properly uses and his weekender bag down in his bedroom before sitting down on the duvet neatly spread over the bed that could comfortably sleep two but hardly ever does. The silence in the flat rings heavily in his ears and for a brief moment he feels... bereft, for lack of a better word. Like life put him at a crossroads and Louis turned the wrong way without knowing it was happening.

Then he rubs a hand over his face and calls Zayn. He’s got some frankly fantastic curry waiting for him.

* * *

The following Thursday three things happen.

First, Zayn drags him out to lunch because Louis has, apparently, been “moping around the office like someone ran over his dog, and you don’t even have a dog, bloody hell, what’s up with you, you’re making everyone miserable”. Louis tries to deny and distract, but Zayn isn’t having any of it, so he haltingly talks about staying with Harry and cooking together and how lovely he was even though he barely knows Louis and that one Almost Kiss Louis would think were only a product of a sleepless night and having witnessed The Miracle of Life if it weren’t for the way Harry hugged him goodbye on Saturday morning.

By the end of Louis’ half-mumbled monologue, Zayn’s eyebrows almost disappear behind his artfully swoopy fringe.

“You are the only bloody person I know who’d go his entire life without a single serious relationship and then fall in love in five bloody days,” Zayn says, but he sounds more amazed than annoyed.

Louis would love to snap at him or brush him off, but fact of the matter is he has no frame of reference for the curious mixture of butterflies and melancholia swimming around his general chest area.

“It’s incredibly inconvenient given that he lives in bloody Wales,” Louis says instead.

“I’ll say,” Zayn agrees.

Louis takes a mopey bite of his toasted panini while Zayn sips at his coffee.

“But it could be worse. I mean, it’s closer than Scotland,” Zayn points out.

“Yes, thank you for that geography lesson,” Louis says and rolls his eyes.

“I’m just saying, it’s not that far a trip. You know, if you think he’s worth it.”

“He’d be worth it in bloody Scotland,” Louis says, taking another bite from his panini. Probably the scariest thing isn’t trying to work out whether he thinks it’d be worth it but whether Harry might agree.

The second thing that happens is that his phone suddenly beeps with a whatsapp message from _Harry Styles_ which is definitely not something that Louis expected to happen, given the complete lack of contact since they said their goodbyes on Saturday.

“D’you have to get back?” Zayn asks.

“Um, no,” Louis says, opening the message to find a photo of Harry in full protective gear, cuddling Braith close and beaming at the camera.

“Was that _him_?” Zayn asks, delighted, and grabs for Louis’ phone.

“Oi!” Louis complains, but Zayn’s leaning back out of his reach and Louis doesn’t feel like getting up and causing a scene. It’s not like it’s a nude photo either, so really it’s nothing that Zayn shouldn’t see.

“Is that the dragon you two hatched? It’s quite cool,” Zayn says. “The boy’s cute too.”

Louis rolls his eyes when Zayn grins over at him. He’s pretty sure that the way he suddenly can’t stop smiling is giving him away clear as day.

“You should call. Tell him you want to visit. Or invite him down to London. I mean, he clearly still wants to talk to you,” Zayn says, handing back the phone.

“Yeah,” Louis says distractedly, staring down at the photo and the dimple pushed into Harry’s cheek. Louis is still having a bit of a hard time believing boys like Harry even exist. Gorgeous and sweet and dimpled baker-chefs who are best friends with Ed Sheeran. And for some reason interested in Louis Tomlinson, apparently.

“Come on, we should get back,” Zayn says, waving down a waiter to pay for their lunch, waving Louis off when he tries to protest.

“You’ll be needing your money for all the trips to Wales you’ll be taking,” he teases. Louis can’t find it in himself to protest.

The third thing to happen is an email from Paul Higgins in Abergavenny waiting in his email inbox when he gets back from lunch with Zayn. He barely has time to read through it before Ben calls him into his office.

“What can I do for you, boss?” Louis asks, taking a seat in the chair opposite Ben’s desk when Ben gestures to it.

“I think it’s more what I can do for you, this time,” Ben says, which doesn’t sound ominous at all.

“I’m not sure what this is about,” Louis says tentatively.

“I just received an email from Paul Higgins in Abergavenny asking whether I’d be amenable to a timeshare plan for you,” Ben says, leaning back in his chair like he’s expecting Louis to explain that, while Louis is trying to work out if he should be insulted by being treated like a car or a holiday home.

“From what I can tell it’s four days a month,” Louis says. It doesn’t seem like much of the time they’d be sharing would go to Abergavenny. “Second and fourth Thursday and Friday of the month.”

Ben hums his agreement.

“Are you interested, Tomlinson?” he asks, seeming genuinely curious.

Louis takes a moment to consider his words.

“I am, yes. I’ve always enjoyed working with the Habitats the most, you know that. And I like the idea of teaching kids a bit more about what PAMC does.”

Ben hums again. Louis feels oddly reminded of being called into the principal’s office in secondary school. Like any moment his geography teacher will cross his arms and tell Louis he won’t ever amount to anything with that disappointed frown like it’s a personal insult to him that one of his students might not achieve executive status in life.

“Well,” Ben says, crossing his arms much in the same way. “I think it’s a great idea and if you want to be involved, I’m more than happy to support that decision.”

“Really?” Louis asks, acutely aware for once that despite their unusual relationship Ben _is_ his boss and could technically refuse him this.

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you,” Louis says and jumps up to wrap Ben in a brief hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Ben chuckles a bit and pats him on the back.

“Good to see you’re so enthusiastic about it,” he says with a grin and a twinkle in his eye like he maybe suspects that there’s more to this than just a job opportunity.

Louis mock salutes him and then turns to leave the office, grin on his face.

“What did he want?” Zayn asks, when Louis passes by his desk.

“To tell me I’m free to take a part time job in Wales,” Louis grins. Zayn gives him a thumbs up.

Back at his desk Louis pulls up the photo Harry sent him again, staring at it for a few heartbeats before bringing up his contact info and pressing ‘call’ before he can change his mind.

Harry picks up after the second ring.

“Louis?”

“Hi,” Louis says, biting down on his grin as the butterflies take flight once again.

“Hi,” Harry echoes.

“So, I just got offered a part time job in Abergavenny and I was wondering if you’d let me stay over a few nights twice a month,” Louis says, balling his free hand into a fist and curling his toes inside his shoes. Harry stays quiet for a second or two.

“Really?” he asks then. “Yeah, of course you can stay over. Anytime, Louis.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” Louis says.

“What kind of job is it?” Harry asks.

“They want to do more tours for school kids and the general public and want me to do that whole... thing,” Louis says. It’s quite a big responsibility. He’ll have to get heavily involved with the organising side of things as well, which isn’t exactly what he’s always dreamed of, but in this case he finds himself looking forward to it.

“That sounds great,” Harry says. “You can go visit Braith. I think she misses you.”

“I miss her too,” Louis says. “And your ridiculously named cat.”

“Toothless has been moping all week,” Harry laughs. Louis doesn’t particularly care if it’s true, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

“And you,” he says then, heart beating wildly in his chest and nails digging into the heel of his palm. “I find myself missing you a lot.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks softly and Louis wishes quite intensely he could see his face right then. “I miss you too.”

Louis breathes a laugh.

“It’s a bit ridiculous really, considering we only met a little over a week ago,” he says.

Harry hums.

“Maybe. But it’d be more ridiculous to give up feeling like this just because we only met a little over a week ago,” he says.

Louis very slowly leans forward and presses his glowing face against the cool surface of the desk.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“So when are you coming back?” Harry asks.

“The job’s not for another two months, but I’ve got a few vacation days saved up,” Louis says, sitting back up and checking his calendar to see how many exactly he could use.

“Great,” Harry says. “Can you come tomorrow? You did promise to make me scrambled eggs.”

Louis laughs and shakes his head to himself.

“I can come next week? Thursday?”

“I’ll come pick you up in Cardiff,” Harry says.

“Perfect. I’ll need to get back to work now though, so they’ll actually let me leave next week.”

Harry laughs down the line.

“Alright. Call me later tonight?”

“Yeah, I will,” Louis promises.

“Okay. Bye then.”

“Bye. Talk to you soon.”

Louis listens to the line go dead and then puts his face back down against the desk, taking a few deep breaths until he can dampen the broad grin on his face and gets something like a handle on the excitement swirling in his belly. He jerks upright when his desk phone rings, clearing his throat before picking it up.

“Tomlinson, PAMC London?”

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” Zayn says and laughs. Louis hangs up on him.

* * *

A week later Louis jumps off the train at Cardiff Central at eleven twenty-three, finding Harry waiting for him on the platform, hands shoved into the pockets of his ridiculously skinny jeans, hair pulled into a messy bun, sunglasses perched on his nose and his grin brighter than the sunshine that’s lighting him up like something from the pages of a magazine. Louis takes a moment to take him in and then weaves around the other passengers towards him. His own grin feels like it matches Harry’s in brightness easily.

“Hi,” he says, coming to a stop in front of Harry, clutching the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” Harry says back.

Louis can’t help but laugh and then holds a hand up, before swinging his bag around and digging through one of the outside pockets.

“I brought you something,” he says.

“Oh?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. A gift, you could say.”

“A gift?” Harry asks, just as Louis’ hand closes around it in the pocket.

“Yeah,” he says pulling it out and presenting his open hand to Harry. In it there’s a silver necklace with a pendant made from Braith’s eggshell. Louis had it filed down to an egg form and framed in silver so it could be used as a pendant.

Harry stares at it with wide eyes and picks it up carefully.

“Is that...?” he asks.

“Yep,” Louis says. “Nicked a bit of it.”

“That... wow,” Harry says and slips the necklace over his head without opening the fastening at the back. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Louis says, preening a bit under Harry’s happy smile.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Harry announces then.

“Now?” Louis asks. “Right here on this platform with all these people around?”

Truth be told, the platform has pretty much emptied around them.

“Yep,” Harry says and takes his sunglasses off, hooking them into the front of his shirt.

“Well, I suppose if you must,” Louis says.

“Absolutely,” Harry says with a grin and steps right up into Louis’ personal space bubble. Louis can feel his sunglasses against his own chest.

Harry smiles and leans forward, brushing his nose against Louis’. Louis can’t help but smile at the action, reaching up to hold on to Harry’s forearms and letting his thumbs brush over the delicate bones in Harry’s wrists.

“I wanted to kiss you so much that morning,” Harry whispers. “But I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again.”

“So kiss me now,” Louis whispers back and lets his eyes fall shut. The first brush of Harry’s lips against his own is exactly as soft and sweet as he imagined it. It gets better after that.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have a picture of what I imagined [Toothless](http://animaljamwallpaper.info/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/baby-kitten-for-sale-calico-kittens-for-sale-cats-wallpaper-hd-pictures.jpg) to look like.


End file.
